


a modern romance

by buvkissteves



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Child Abuse, Drinking, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, M/M, Making Love, any and all trigger warnings will be specified at the beginning of the chapter if needed, but anyway they deserve soft things, literally all this fic is is fluff and smut and some angst because hello its me and thats what i do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buvkissteves/pseuds/buvkissteves
Summary: this is an au: of two men who found each other online, and learned to love without seeing each other's faces before they meet in real life.in the modern world, where there are no zombies to get in their way. but there's still merle dixon (who can arguably be worse)this is a sad story, but mostly it's a love story. because after daryl lived an entire life of neglect, and after paul never knowing what it meant to be truly loved, they both deserve it





	1. ace

Daryl Dixon was having a shitty day.

The car he was working on was as stubborn as a mule, he had an itch on his back that he couldn’t reach, and grease in way too many places. Friday’s were always the longest days, stretched out as though the universe was aware of the fact that Daryl would do anything to speed the day up. Luckily, he only had about an hour left of his day, he was the last one left and quite frankly was more than okay with closing up shop.

The shop was owned by his brother, who left early more often than not. Daryl didn’t mind, he actually preferred it when his brother left. It allowed his brain to settle, to calm down and just do his job. He didn’t mind the work—cars were easier to work than people. People were complicated; he had to speak to them, understand them, and nine times out of ten, no one really said how they really felt anyhow. At least with cars, he could just find the problem, fix it and that would be all of it. It was repetitive sometimes, but Daryl found that worked better for him anyhow.

He tucked his red rag in the back of his pants as he ducked out of the hood of the car, stretching out his back. The garage was open wide today, letting in the cool August air.

Just a bit less than an hour. Then he could go home, put on his sweatpants and collapse on his bed, watch mindless television before he passed out. Such were his days; series of meaningless moments strung together by work, sleep, and lazy fucks that made him feel as though he wasn’t as lonely as he actually was.

Well, there was one other thing that he was looking forward to that night.

Unfortunately, before Daryl’s mind could float away into that nice fantasy, the roar of a car distracted him. He turned around when he heard he realized that it was pulling up, lightly swearing under his breath. He _hated_ when people came so late in the day to drop off their cars. As though they purposely planned it around the fact that he was almost done, and had to come bust his ass before he would get to closing.

Daryl sighed and shut the hood of the car, leaning against it as the newcomer showed up. His window was down, which made enough sense—the Georgia heat was more than terrible. Daryl pushed himself off the car and walked towards the small Honda parking. He squinted as the sun met his eyes, the heat immediately bearing down on his shoulders in a wholly unpleasant way.

“Hi,” the man called from inside. Daryl nodded at him and watched him get out, slamming the door unhappily. “Sorry about coming so late.” He took his shoulder length hair and tied it up in a bun. Daryl was more concerned with his beard, it outdid his, but the man seemed younger than him.

 _Hipsters,_ Daryl thought.

He was dressed nice enough, fitting jeans, a white t-shirt. Simple, but it looked good on him. He was supporting sunglasses that were big and black, but his mouth was turned down in a frown.

“S’wrong with it?” Daryl asked.

The man sighed. “I have no idea. The whole thing shakes when I drive it, like it shakes _real_ bad, and the steering wheel tilts back and forth quick when I’m not even touching it.”

“Alright, well come in you just have to fill out somethin’,” he mumbled, tilting his head. He held out his hand and the man dropped his keys into it, the two of them walking inside. “You ain’t from around here.” He muttered over his shoulder, bringing him into the office.

“What gave it away?” the man sat at the chair in front of the desk, pushing up his sunglasses. Daryl sat at the chair opposite him, momentarily struck by the _blueness_ of the man’s eyes.

“You ain’t in Atlanta. This is Helen, there’s less than 600 people in this place. Know practically everyone who’s here. Passin’ through?”

“Something like that,” he mumbled, grabbing the paper that Daryl pushed towards him. He smiled at him when offered the pen, and Daryl watched him write down his name in lovely cursive writing, _Paul Rovia._  

“Do you need the car anytime soon?” Daryl asked as he took back the paper. He got up and Paul got up with him, understanding that he was walking him out.

Paul shook his head. “My new job only starts the first of September.”

“It’ll be good by Monday night.”

Paul glanced at him, grinning as he flicked his sunglasses so they lowered on the bridge of his nose, before he pushed them back up, so they were settled properly. It was a wholly useless move that could have been saved if Paul would have just moved the glasses with his hand. “That’s quick.” He sounded impressed, which meant that he likely had shitty mechanics before Daryl.

Daryl was good at what he did. He didn’t have a college education, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t smart. “Have a feelin’ I already know what the problem is. Shouldn’t take too long.” He shrugged. “I’ll call you.”

“Lucky me,” Paul chuckled. “Thanks a lot Mr…”

“Dixon,” Daryl wiped his hands on his jeans and took out his packet of cigarettes. He nodded once at Paul who looked him over and grinned, waving goodbye as he went on his way. Daryl watched him go, setting the cigarette in his mouth, his eyes on Paul Rovia.

As Daryl watched him leave, it occurred to him—“Hey,” he moved forward, putting the cigarette behind his ear for a moment. “Hold on, how’re you gettin’ wherever you need to go?”

“Oh I’m in a hotel.” Paul gestured lamely, turning on his heels and gesturing over his shoulder. “My place isn’t ready yet so…”

Daryl choked on his words for a brief moment, feeling momentarily suffocated despite the fact he was outside. “I’m closin’ up, I can bring you.” He offered with a shrug. It wasn’t uncommon, Daryl normally offered himself up whenever someone needed a ride to the garage. Granted, you could walk the whole town easily enough, but Daryl always felt bad sending someone away with no car to fend for themselves. Merle called him a softie. Well, something more vulgar but Daryl chose to ignore it.

“Alright great.” Paul flashed him a grin.

Daryl nodded and bit his lip for a small moment. He tucked his cigarette back in the pack and pocketed it. “Just got to close up. My bike is over there.” He motioned to the far side of the garage.

“A bike?” Paul raised his eyebrow looking over at the Harley. It was a softtail, black and sleek and shiny and the love of Daryl’s life. “My mom always told me to be careful about pretty boys with motorcycles.” He walked over to it, running his hand along it. Daryl had to almost shake himself, remind himself to close up. “She always told me never to get on the back of one.”

“You’re in luck then,” Daryl called out as he began to close up, turning off the switches and closing doors. “I ain’t pretty.” Paul snorted loud enough to make Daryl roll his eyes in response, but neither of them said anything in retaliation.

Daryl wasn’t unused to people hitting on him. From middle aged women to the _very_ few gay men who either lived here or walked through during their tours before they made way to Atlanta. Sometimes he took people up on their offers, but most of the time he didn’t, because it made everything inside his head worse.

Daryl walked over to his bike and grabbed his helmet, passing it to Paul. “Where you stayin’?”

Paul grabbed it, their fingers brushing and Daryl saw it in Paul’s small smile, it was almost wicked—he was doing it on purpose. “The Willow Inn,”

“Alright,” he got on the bike, doing his best not to tense as Paul settled behind him, his legs against Daryl’s, his arms around him. Normally Daryl borrowed Merle’s car to bring people back, instead of using his bike. He wasn’t a major fan of physical interaction if it could be avoided. It wasn’t even because he didn’t like it, it was because he _loved_ it. Daryl _craved it_ , he craved it so bad that it allowed him to fuck people when he could barely acknowledge their faces, because even though he knew it sent him to a terrible place it was better than the _nothingness._

So naturally, the feel of a body behind him, clutching him, was enough to make him tense. It was enough to make him _wanting_ and so very sad all at once.

God, he was exhausted.

The ride itself took two minutes. It was a small town, the ones where everyone knew everyone and everyone knew each other’s business whether it was good or bad. Everyone was nice until the doors were closed and whatever happened behind those doors was “family issues”. It made Daryl both love and hate this place. He wondered if Paul was ready for a place like this.

He parked his bike in front and took his helmet from Paul who handed it back with a grin. “I appreciate the help man.”

“Sure,” he lingered in hesitation for a moment before he asked, “You said you got a place, but…”

“Oh,” Paul mumbled. “Yeah I mean, I’m on contract. So I’m passing through, but not really. I guess it depends how my job goes.”

“Alright,” Daryl murmured. “Well, I’ll give you a call on Monday.”

“Thanks!” Paul winked at him, fixing his sunglasses before he walked into the hotel. Daryl watched him go, feeling uneasy in the pit of his stomach before he started his car and made his way back to his home.

Daryl lived in a small one story house just five minutes outside of the main town, up on a hill away from people looking at him. It was less for him and more for Merle, who lived even higher up in order to conduct his side businesses. Daryl didn’t mind not living in the main square, he liked his privacy anyhow. He knew the people better than Merle did, and made frequent trips to town for events and to help out when needed, but his alone time was valuable to him too. Those people tended to knock on doors and let themselves in, and Daryl didn’t want anyone around him unless they were invited.

Daryl began to strip as soon as he walked into the door, going over to his bed and flicking on his laptop before he went to take a shower. That was his favourite part of the day—rubbing away all the dirt and grime he so often wore, washing his hair and pushing it away from his face. When he stepped out he quickly towel dried his hair and grabbed his waiting sweatpants on the bed, slipping them on and getting into bed.

With a smile, he saw there was a message waiting for him.

This was what Daryl looked forward to when every work day came to an end. When he was done dealing with his loud brother. When he could put away the people he dealt with, the things he had to hear, and the people who smiled at him brightly but so often thought of him differently. Every day when he came home, he got to look forward to a message.

_Jesus: I was thinking about you all day today. The weekend is the best time for us to talk, I hate that work gets in the way._

Daryl smiled, chewing the inside of his lip. This thread between him and Jesus was a dangerous game. They had started talking about three months ago, mostly by accident. Daryl was fucking around on the computer, mostly because he was trying to find photos of a particular band that he liked. He had gone on a website called Tumblr, but the account had been locked, so he had to create one in order to access the photos. He ended up falling so in love with them, that he sent a message to the person who owned the account.

He called himself Jesus. Said he didn’t want his real name out there. So Daryl, to keep himself safe, said his name was Ace. It was something his brother used to call him when he was younger, when he would teach him how to use a bow. Daryl never missed a shot.

They had been talking almost every day for three months, and in that time, Daryl had revealed more of himself to this person than he had to anyone ever before. Jesus wanted to know him, really know him, and accepted everything that Daryl said to him. Whether it was stuff about his sexuality, his past, how he felt about the world or himself, Jesus always listened.

Of course, Jesus didn’t know _everything._ He knew Daryl had been abused, but not to what extent. He knew Daryl’s fractured sense of self, his lack of self-esteem, and shaky sexuality—but not how bad things got. But Jesus knew enough, and seemed to want to speak to him anyway.

They both liked each other, both admitted it. Daryl didn’t know whether it was good or bad—to like someone who you cant see, and never heard speak. Maybe this was better, knowing someone through a screen, liking them for who they were before you found out how they looked.

Was it so terrible anyhow? Jesus made him feel good about himself. Surely that was okay.

Though they both had usernames on Tumblr, Daryl didn’t identify Jesus with his username. He was just Jesus. A whole person.

_Ace: Left work early, so we have a bit more time tonight._

_Jesus: Oh come on, it’s the weekend. Don’t tell me you have nothing to do._

_Ace: Nothing to do here anyway. Same old people every night, and I don’t wanna go to a bar to get piss ass drunk._ What Daryl didn’t say, but wanted to say was that he didn’t want to go out because he would much rather stay in his bed and talk to Jesus for the entire evening.

_Jesus: Lucky me, I get you all to myself._

Daryl smiled. Jesus often said stuff like that, sometimes Daryl was able to be so open back, others he was sarcastic. Sometimes, like tonight, he blew it off because it made him so flustered. _Ace: What did you do today?_

_Jesus: Nothing of real importance, I might start a new job soon. I’m still trying to figure out if it’s worth it._

_Ace: What’s stopping you?_

_Jesus: You, actually._

_Ace: What does that mean?_

_Jesus: I’ll be in town, Monday._

Daryl sat up straighter, feeling hot. He ran both of his hands through his hair and breathed out steadily before he typed out, _Ace: Are you serious?_

_Jesus: Yeah, I hope that’s okay. The job is nearby, it just kind of happened._

Daryl snorted. _Ace: Just kind of happened? You’re from California._

_Jesus: Yeah well, my ex-boyfriend kicked me out. I didn’t tell you that. I was ashamed, was living with a buddy and then I got a job offer in Cleveland, Georgia._

Anger took hold of Daryl as it so often did whenever Jesus brought up his boyfriend. He knew briefly that it was a terribly complicated and somehow loving and unhealthy relationship all at once. He knew that they were on and off again for months on end, and when they broke up officially, Jesus was able to stay in the apartment with his boyfriend under “limited time”. Daryl had no idea it was going to be up so quickly. _Ace: Wow._ But Daryl didn’t know exactly what he meant by that.

_Jesus: That’s a good wow, I hope._

_Ace: Yeah, sorry, it is…I just…I dunno. Didn’t expect to actually, you know, meet you, I guess._

_Jesus: So you want to then? You want to meet?_

Daryl nodded, and then realized Jesus couldn’t see him. He laughed to himself, shaking his head, _hating_ that someone _through the internet_ could make him like this. _Ace: Hell yeah._

_Jesus: Okay great, because I lied. I’m already here._

Daryl typed quickly, feeling antsy, shaken, excited— _Ace: What? Jesus, really?_

_Jesus: Yup. I mean…I’m kind of exhausted right now, but uh, maybe tomorrow? It’s the weekend. We can grab a drink?_

_Ace: Yeah, sure. My brother is out of town anyway so he ain’t bustin my ass._

_Jesus: Where should I meet you?_

_Ace: There’s a bar in town called Cullens. Meet you there at 8?_ Daryl’s head was buzzing, his heart beating fast against his chest. This was going to happen. He was going to meet Jesus. Someone who knew him, liked him, and wanted to know him in person the way he did online.

_Jesus: Yeah, okay. That sounds great._

_Ace: Yeah_

_Jesus: Hey Ace? I just want you to know, I’m really excited to meet you._

_Ace: Same here. How will I know though, that it’s you?_

_Jesus: I have a really bright yellow shirt, I’ll wear that haha_

Daryl chuckled. _Ace: You’ll look ridiculous_

_Jesus: You’ll love it_

Daryl grinned, a small tiny thing to himself, feeling something almost like hope begin to grab hold of his heart. _Ace: I probably will_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO FRIENDS IM BACK
> 
> please comment i know this chapter was slow but aye you gotta take it slow for the things to eventually heat up 
> 
> let the good times roll kids


	2. first date

When Daryl woke up that morning, he felt immediately anxious.

He turned over in his bed, laying on his back and pressing his hands to his eyes, trying to stabilize himself. He focused on his breathing, working on keeping it regular as he thought about what was waiting for him that evening.

He was going to meet Jesus.

Hopefully, he would also find out the real name of the person he had been slowly cultivating feelings for, for three months.

Not one of Daryl’s best plans.

Daryl got up from his bed, placing his feet on the ground, shivering when the cold shot up to his shoulders. He looked around his home and wondered what it would be like to have someone in the bed next to him. Someone to wake up to. Not that he would be presumptuous of Jesus anyhow, but the idea was nice.

Daryl’s one story home was a small and open concept. His bed was furthest from the door, the bathroom right by it. Facing the bed was a television hooked up with a DVD, and a comfortable couch that he was able to extend his feet completely on. Beyond that was the kitchen, with the tiny table with a chair on each table—but usually, there were only two people occupying it. Daryl and Merle (if he felt like coming over for dinner). There was a bookshelf propped up against the wall with some classic novels shoved onto it without much preamble. At the bottom of it were piles of photography books with a camera propped up next to it.

On the wall opposite were some frames. One of himself and Merle, one of himself with Aaron and Eric, who passed through once every three-four months (Merle just thought they were casual friends, he didn’t know that they were gay. Aaron and Eric weren’t fond of keeping their love a secret if he showed up unannounced, but it was about their safety). There was another one of his high school friends—one frame of them young, and one when they were older. Maggie was two years younger than them, but always hung around with the older crowd. She married an amazing man named Glenn and moved to Florida to be closer to her retired father Hershel, and Daryl usually saw her for major holidays. Rick lived in Atlanta, and was a top cop, and they saw each other at least twice a month.

Daryl missed them, so much. The loneliness ate him up so bad sometimes.

Everyone was gone from this stupid place, everyone but him.

At least today, someone would be here. Well, not here specifically in his home, but here in his town. The excitement in him was both nauseating and a boost of adrenaline for him. Or maybe that was the same thing. Either way, Daryl was more than ready for it to happen.

It was a strange thing, to feel this way over someone who lived miles upon miles away from you, much less someone who he had never even seen in real life. Yet it made him happy, it made him happy every single night to know that someone out there _wanted_ to know him. His secrets, what he liked, what he disliked, down to insignificant things like his favorite color, food, and even his favorite word.

Yes, his favorite word.

Even though he was only meeting Jesus at night, Daryl took the entire morning to get ready. He took the longest shower he had ever taken in his life, washing his hair vigorously, and then scrubbing his body until it burned a bit. That was his anxiety taking over, making him think he was less than he was. Scrubbing away his life, who he was, where he came from. Then, when he stepped out of the shower and looked in the mirror, pushing his hair back, he had to remind himself—

_Jesus already knows these things. He already likes you._

_For now._

“Fuck,” Daryl muttered, turning away from the mirror.  

He did his best to put it out of his mind, walking over to his clothes and trying to pick something out. He wasn’t a fan of shorts, even though the heat was slowly killing him. He settled on a pair of dark jeans, doing his best to have them cling to him with a belt, but they were still a touch roomy. He settled on a plaid shirt that had ripped sleeves, letting his hair dry naturally, and he would later fix it just enough where it would show his face but keep himself hidden _just enough_ in case he felt like it wasn’t going well.

When he was dressed and ready, he looked at the clock.

It was nowhere near night.

Daryl sighed. This was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

Daryl walked along the small supermarket, his carriage filled with the essentials—fruits, vegetables, some bread. He wasn’t much of a fancy eater, mostly because he didn’t know how to cook anything over the top, but he appreciated going out every once and a while and treating himself. When he stayed home, his meals were simple, and that was okay too. Daryl rolled up to the frozen section, looking for his favorite coffee ice cream. He was walking backward with his carriage, biting his lip as his eyes ran along the different desserts. His back came into contact with someone, and he swore under his breath turning around with an apology ready on his lips.

“Oh shit,” a voice said, dropping a frozen pizza from his hands. Daryl scrambled, muttering a quick sorry, bending down to get the pizza at the same time that the person did—effectively allowing them to hit their heads.

“Damn it,” the person said—the man.

Daryl rubbed his forehead. “Sorry,” he handed the pizza box back to—“Paul?”

“Ah!” Paul smiled happily, his eyes blue, and bright and shining. His smile, for a brief moment, took Daryl’s breath away. It was so unashamed, something Daryl had never been able to do. Very few people had seen him smile, _really_ smile. Rick maybe, when he had asked Daryl to be the godfather of his newborn baby girl Judith, all those years ago. Beyond that, he was not sure anyone had ever seen him at his best.

“Mr. Dixon, hello,”

But Daryl was no longer looking at Paul’s face. His eyes had traveled down to the bright yellow shirt he was wearing.

_Jesus Raves._

Daryl glared at him. “You’re him?” he snapped.

Paul raised his eyebrow. “I’m…the person you met yesterday, yes.”

“No you idiot,” and Daryl almost smiled at the way Paul looked completely offended. “For fuck’s sake.” He pulled on Paul’s shirt, motioning to it.

Paul looked down in utter confusion, and if Daryl wasn’t so annoyed with having been _played,_ he would have laughed. He knew it wasn’t Paul’s fault, Daryl really blamed himself. He made such a show about knowing everyone in town, and then couldn’t put together that garage man and Jesus were the same freaking person.

“Do you not like my shirt?” Paul asked, and then, like Daryl, understanding dawned on him. Daryl watched his face go from confusion, to understanding, and then he laughed, a small wonderful laugh that made Daryl roll his eyes. “Of course it’s you.” He shook his head, stepping back and running both of his hands through his shoulder-length hair.

“What does _that_ mean?” Daryl growled.

Paul looked at him, up and down, slowly, making Daryl feel uncomfortable, but not in a terribly unpleasant way. “It means that I’m lucky, considering the first thing I thought to myself when I brought you my car was how attractive you are.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“When have I ever been a dick?”

Daryl shook his head, looking down at his hands for a moment. Thankfully, Paul knew enough about him to know to let him have his moment to himself. How strange this all was—to think about this in this fashion. To already have so many running, quick thoughts about the person in front of him, because he _knew_ him. There was not going to be any small talk, there was not going to be any preamble to it. There was just this—two people who already knew each other, and had come to know each other for months. But now they were facing each other, and Daryl was not at all prepared. They were already joking around, like they did online, as though it was so easy. Daryl had expected it to be more difficult. His life was never easy. Why should this be any different?

“Okay,” Daryl looked back at him, and when he did he almost glared. Paul was looking at him with such a soft smile. “Stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“How do you want me to look at you Ace?”

“Daryl,” Daryl corrected him immediately.

“Daryl Dixon,” Paul sighed. “I like that.”

“Stop it.”

Paul laughed again, and it made Daryl’s bones burn. “Daryl, come on, you knew we were going to meet. Why are you so upset?”

“I ain’t upset. I’m just…” Daryl sighed, shaking his head. “Thought this would be more…”

“Romantic?” Paul chuckled.

“I dunno,” he mumbled, looking at Paul, in the same slow way that Paul had looked at him. “With more of a moment, I guess…” he finished off stupidly.

Paul was handsome, more than handsome, he was pretty. Blue eyes, that hair, that beard, his lean build.

“Life is full of anti-climactic moments,” Paul mumbled.

“No,” Daryl said swiftly. “I didn’t…you’re real…” he swore again under his breath.

“Okay,” Paul said, putting his hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl almost recoiled, he clearly tensed, but he forced himself not to move back.

_Relax, you know this person. He knows you._

“I have an idea,” Paul said brightly. “Fuck drinks, let’s have dinner. I have a frozen pizza, you were looking for dessert, what’s better than that?”

“You mean you wanna come over?”

“Yeah,” Paul smiled grandly. “Daryl look, this isn’t a story, this is life. Things don’t go like you always want, but we were going to meet anyway and now we have!”

“You’re very excited.”

“Daryl,” Paul said seriously. “We were going to meet anyway right—”

“Yeah but I thought—”

“Life is full of surprises Daryl.” He leaned over and put the pizza in his carriage. “What ice cream do you want?” he asked, pulling open the door. He glanced at Daryl smiling softly, and Daryl felt so at ease.

This was so easy for Paul.

Quickly, his brain caught up with him.

True, Daryl had expected something more…not romantic, but something slower. He wasn’t used to life coming at him this fast, for something to come quickly and without thought. For someone to take to him as _easily_ as Paul seemed to be taking it now. He thought these stories were supposed to be harder.

Daryl decided to allow himself to dive into it. “Coffee,” he answered.

Paul smiled grandly at him, and grabbed it for him.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t say very long at the grocery store, they gathered a few more things, Daryl not talking much, and instead just listening to Paul babbling away at the most insignificant things. Daryl was fairly sure he could listen to Paul babble forever. He talked with his hands a lot, and kept smiling, and smiling. Daryl wondered if it hurt his face. In fact, he had asked him that, and Paul had laughed with his whole body, explaining that it actually used more muscles to frown than to smile.

Daryl had to remind himself to stay stable, to keep himself under control. He didn’t want to be as _jolly_ as Paul was, but then again, a small part of his brain kept reminding him that he already _knew_ this person. Paul was happy, and easy, and why was Daryl so hell-bent on refusing to believe that two people could just flow easily together.

_You know him—_

_This is too fast—_

_You’ve known him for three months technically—_

_Him looking like **that** is just one hell of a bonus—_

_He knows you—_

_You know him—_

_This is okay._

They made it back to Daryl’s house in one piece. Paul had offered his hotel, but Daryl didn’t want to be seen going in with someone. His house was safer, away from prying eyes and people. Not that he was expecting anything from Paul, but he would just rather have his privacy.

Daryl fumbled with the keys to his place. “It ain’t much,” he mumbled, letting him in.

“It’s lovely,” Paul grinned walking in. “Hopefully now that you’re in your own home, you’ll be more comfortable.”

Immediately Daryl bowed his head lightly. “M’sorry,” he sighed, walking over to the kitchen, setting the bags down on the counter. “I dunno what’s wrong with me.” His hands splayed out on the counter, looking down at them. “I mean, you and I…we know each other.”

Paul walked towards him and jumped on top of the counter, smiling at him. “I’m too much right?”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah,”

“It’s okay if I am, I’ve told you, that’s why Alex dumped me.”

“Alex is a damn idiot.”

Paul smiled again. “You’re sweet. Do you want to tell me why you’re so closed up?” he asked.

Daryl straightened himself, crossing his arms and glancing at Paul. “I just don’t understand how you aren’t as fuckin’ nervous as I am, cause I…”

“Daryl,” Paul sighed. “I know it feels like everything is moving really fast, even though nothing has happened at all. I’m sorry if I’m making you nervous, I’m just happy. I’m excited.”

“You’re better than me at this.”

“Look Daryl,” Paul jumped off, grabbing the pizza box. “Let’s just make dinner, eat some ice cream and talk. That’s what we always do right? We’ve talked every day for three months.”

“We have.”

“So?” Paul smiled grandly. “Let’s get cooking!”

Daryl nodded. He knew Paul was right, he was making too much of this when it didn’t have to be. “So, you gonna be honest with me then?” he asked, setting his oven as Paul ripped open the box. “Why you came out here?”

Paul laughed softly, setting the pizza on the pan. “Well, I think we both know why I came out here.”

Daryl glanced at him. “Look man, I ain’t…”

“What, you’re not gay?”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m gay but I ain’t out. You came out here, and I’m glad, but it’s like…fuck sake’s I feel like I just got hit by a truck. You’re in my house.”

“I am,” Paul nodded.

“What do you want from me?”

“Look, in the three months that we’ve spoken, I’ve never lied. Neither of us did right? We both like each other.” Paul shrugged. “I don’t need to hold your hand in public, I just came here because I got kicked out and I got a job, and you’re…I mean you’re Ace.” Paul shrugged.

Daryl sighed, shoving the pizza into the oven. “I feel so fuckin’,” he shook his head. “Why is this so awkward for me? We already fuckin’ know each other!” he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

“Maybe it’s because you already really like me.” Paul grinned. D

Daryl stared at him. “Feels like this whole thing ain’t fuckin’ real, like my head is…”

“Running away with you? My brain feels like it’s on fire too. But I’m glad I’m here. We’re finally on a date, after three months of foreplay.” He laughed at Daryl’s embarrassed expression, and moved forward towards him.

“What are you doin’?” he asked.

“Do you trust me?”

“Nah,”

“Daryl,” Paul said, and his body was so close and suddenly his breath was touching Daryl’s lips, and everything he wanted was in front of him but this was all so fast, this couldn’t be so easy, nothing like this had ever—

“Paul,” he choked.

“Close your eyes,” Paul murmured.

Daryl did as he was told.

Gently, ever so gently, Paul pressed his lips against Daryl’s.

The world slowed down.

Daryl, for the first time all day, had found his bearings.

It was something so chaste, something sweet and soft and simple. It was Paul opening his mouth just a touch, and Daryl testing the waters of that _something more._ He pressed back, his shaking hands settling on Paul’s hips, and from that touch, he was stilled.

Daryl hadn’t felt still in such a long time.

They pulled back, and Daryl’s breath was gone not from the kissing but from the intensity of his feelings. How could one kiss have affected him more than any other kiss, more than any other person ever had?

He stared into Paul’s gorgeous blue eyes. “Thanks…” he mumbled.

Paul grinned. “Let’s eat,” he suggested.

And the night progressed so _wonderfully_ easy after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay im sorry this chapter is terrible lmao but the next one is gonna be much better and slower and will flesh out their relationship more. there's gonna be a lot of talkin' and soft kisses and etc im sorry this sucked lmao wow


	3. fate

Calm.

Daryl woke up, stretching out his legs in his bed like a cat, shoving his pillow against the headboard, groaning. Before Daryl bothered moving, he shoved his face back into his pillow and sighed. Waking up and actually getting out of bed was the worst part of the bed. It meant he had to be productive, and not just sit around all day on his ass like he wanted.

Then again, today was the perfect day to do it, and maybe now he had a reason to do it.

He turned over in his bed, his nose kicking in. He smelt…food?

Daryl sat up in his bed, the cover falling down from him. He almost grabbed it to cover his chest, but then remembered he was wearing a shirt because company had stayed over last night. He hadn’t wanted Paul to see his scars, so he had opted for his t-shirt. Paul had taken the couch, even though Daryl had offered to take the couch himself.

Honestly, Paul could have easily gone home to sleep, but neither of them had really wanted that. After their kiss, which had grounded Daryl more than he ever could have imagined, things had settled. They ate in front of the television, hadn’t really kissed again, but had spoken normally. They talked about everything they would have talked about online, nothing special and yet that’s what made it so special. It was like Paul had been living in that town Daryl’s entire life.

Everything felt like it made sense.

There were a million reasons why it didn’t make sense, but a million reasons why it did. Daryl had decided before he went to bed last night, that his motto was to go into this with a clear mind. He had nothing to worry about, he had to go into this thinking that it was okay.

He had to go into this not thinking about Merle.

Just about Paul.

Don’t think about others, think about himself. Himself, Paul, and that was it.

“Hi,” Daryl mumbled, looking at him.

Paul looked like a dream, plates of food already spread on the table, his hair tied up in a messy bun. He was wearing one of Daryl’s t-shirts, and the pajama pants that he had borrowed from Daryl as well. Daryl felt _very_ satisfied seeing Paul wearing his clothes. It was so _domestic._

“Hello,” Paul grinned at him, turning off the stove. He looked over at Daryl, his eyes shining. “Am I allowed to kiss you good morning?”

Daryl almost choked. _Don’t think._ “You’re real…”

“Good at this, I know, we established that.”  Paul prepared the plates. “So, can I?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah,”

Paul looked like a puppy, bounding over him and jumping on the bed. Daryl almost moved back, but thought to himself _it’s okay to be happy, even if it looks too easy,_ and closed his eyes. He felt Paul’s hand curl itself into his hair, and pull their faces together, their lips pressing against the other. It was not soft like the night before. All of Paul’s excitement was present in the kiss, moving eagerly against Daryl’s. There was that feeling again—the stillness, being grounded.

Daryl moved in closer, his hand moving before he realized it, curling in Paul’s hair as well. Paul smiled as they kissed, laughing softly, Daryl taking the opportunity to press himself closer, so their chests touched.

The moment it got a little intense, Paul pulled back.

“Breakfast,” he reminded Daryl.

Daryl nodded and crawled out of bed, following Paul to the kitchen, sitting at his table. “You didn’t have to do this,” he mumbled.

Paul shrugged, taking his spot. “I wanted to. Coffee?” he offered, taking the kettle from the table and offering it to him.

Daryl nodded, looking at Paul as he poured it for the both of them. “Looks amazin’,”

“It is,” Paul winked at him, putting it down. “Dig in. I’m a great cook.”

“Humble too,” Daryl murmured, shoving some potatoes into his mouth.

“So?” Paul asked, raising his eyebrow. “How good is it?”

Daryl shrugged, hiding a smile. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Paul snorted. “It’s amazing and you know it.”

Daryl nodded, continuing to eat. It _was_ good, it was perfectly cooked, with just enough oil and salt, and all golden and lovely. Maybe Daryl was romanticizing the breakfast, because he was also romanticizing Paul. In this house, with him, being happy and easy and everything Daryl had ever wanted.

The person he had been talking to for months was so easily his.

“You look good.” Daryl blurted out.

Paul’s eyes lit up again, “Thanks. I mean, I didn’t have time to prepare myself as I should have, to you know, really impress you and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta impress me.”

“Well if I want you to keep me I have to.”

Daryl shook his head. “I’m keepin’ you whether you cook for me or not.”

Paul laughed softly. “Sweet talking me so early in the morning, huh? Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Yeah?” Daryl asked, feeling brave. “How much?”

Paul laughed, loud and lovely. “Don’t,” he shook his head. “I’m joking around, but if you’re serious I’m going to have trouble holding back.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.” Daryl shrugged, and playfully pushed his foot against Paul’s, making Paul chuckle again. He couldn’t remember the last time he ever felt playful. He didn’t even know he was capable of being playful. It was a feeling he hadn’t associated with himself since…forever.

“As lovely as that sounds,” Paul grinned, pouring himself some more coffee. “I think it’s better if we wait. I mean, I want to wait. You’re important, and you know, I know we’re kissing and stuff but we haven’t really talked.”

“We did—”

“Not really. I mean, yeah we talked about how I’m staying and I’m here, and you and I are together, but I have to make sure you _want_ to be together. That you want me, because…” he set down his fork and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, thinking to himself for a moment before he looked at Daryl seriously. “I’m all in. I was all in before I even got here. I was all in three months ago.”

_Don’t think._

Daryl nodded. “I’m all in too.”

Paul smiled brightly. “Good. I’m glad.”

Daryl nodded. “It’s too easy though right?”

Paul chuckled. “I know what you mean. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“The shoe’s name is Merle,” Daryl told him seriously.

“Your brother right?”

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “I ain’t gonna lie, it’s not gonna be pleasant.”

“Daryl, I’m not going to force you to do anything, you know that right? I mean, I’m in, but I’m not the kind of guy to force you to come out to your brother.”

“I’m forty years old man. If I don’t come out now, what the fuck is the damn point?” he asked seriously, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t wanna do this half-assed.”

Paul put his hands up. “I’m just saying, you know, I know this is happening fast, and I know yesterday you were freaking out—”

“M’sorry, I just ain’t good with this shit,” Daryl admitted. “But you know, I don’t wanna…I knew I liked you a long time ago.  I just have to get out of my head, and sooner this shit hits the fan with Merle, sooner it’s over.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can handle Merle.” Daryl nodded. “Just gotta figure out the right moment.”

“Take your time,” Paul said, leaning over and kissing Daryl’s nose, making him frown—which made Paul chuckle. “I’m in no rush, Daryl Dixon. I’ll wait for you forever.”

 

* * *

 

Sunday progressed beautifully, naturally. It was easy and simple and they did nothing all day, which made Daryl feel good. Merle didn’t come by unannounced, which was excellent. They watched a terrible movie that was on television that they had never heard of before, and cuddled on the couch while finishing off the ice cream that had found its home in Daryl’s freezer.

Daryl felt so fucking happy, he couldn’t stand it. The day was so slow, that by the time night came around Daryl wished that it had gone even slower. He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want Monday. He wanted to stay in this day forever, to never have it end, so that he could have this and have it last.

Daryl was taking advantage of this moment, of this perfect bliss. Because eventually, the other shoe _would_ drop, and he had to be ready when it did.

Not to mention, the kissing made the day extra perfect too.

As it turned out, Daryl very much liked having someone on top of him. He was sitting on the couch and Paul was straddling him. It had started awkwardly—both of them uncertain as to whether or not they should be in such a position, but after a couple of minutes of chaste kissing, they had found home with each other. Paul had climbed on top of Daryl and something had shifted in his eyes. That bright glance had turned dark, full of lust, and he had kissed Daryl _but with tongue._

A lot of tongue.

Daryl didn’t even know someone could _do those things_ with a tongue.

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe properly, and none of it mattered. His mouth was _heavy_ with the feel of Paul’s tongue rolling with his, taking complete control of his mouth. Daryl just let it happen, he was always pretty dominant with his former lovers—lovers was even too strong a word of it, but that’s because he had never cared for them.

Paul was different. He wanted to be…well, this. Held. Wanted. Being submissive. _Wanting_ to be submissive, because he trusted someone.

Daryl’s hands had found a place on Paul’s hips, and Paul’s were crushed in Daryl’s hair.

Then Paul moved.

Daryl had to turn his head away to breathe, when he felt Paul push down with his hips. Paul kissed his neck for a moment before he leaned back and said seriously, “You can say no to me anytime.”

Daryl shook his head. “I don’t want to say no,” he said quickly. “But uh…it’s been a long time. And…I might…”

“Blow your load a little soon?” he laughed loudly when Daryl tugged on one of his strands of hair in retaliation. “Daryl relax. Honestly, that’s kind of hot that I do that to you.”

“S’embarrsin’,”

“It’s been long for me too,” Paul curled Daryl’s hair around his ears. “But man, am I ready to go.”

Daryl nodded, “Me too,” he breathed, pulling him back down. Their lips met once more, and Daryl lost himself to it—the conversation of the day, the two of them kissing and moving together like this, Daryl felt heat pooling in his belly, more than aware that this wasn’t going to last long.

But damn, he was going to get there nicely.

Daryl didn’t have the strength to kiss, so he leaned his head back to look at Paul, grasping his face in his larger hands and looking at him in the eyes. “Look at me,” he whispered—because it felt like it meant something, to look into the eyes of someone you cared about, even though you barely knew them—physically—for this to mean something special. He wanted to look into Paul’s blue eyes to stay grounded, because for the first time, he would have pleasure while looking at someone who cared about him.

Paul looked at him.

Daryl looked back.

Their hands gripped each other’s hair like their life depended on it. Daryl was trying to move his hips, but Paul seemed more than capable of doing it on his own. His hips moved fluidly, intensely, pushing down and grinding and _god the feel of Paul’s erection grinding against his—all that fabric, it was driving him insane, and it was too much and not enough, and Paul’s mouth was dropping open in ecstasy and Daryl found that Paul’s face in pleasure was enough to push him over that edge—_

Daryl tumbled, lost in the feel of pleasure mixed with the intensity of Paul’s eyes.

When Paul came, Daryl thought that he might climax again.

_Jesus, Daryl was fucked._

Paul laughed softly, moving forward and hugging Daryl tightly. Daryl hugged him back, and whispered, “Glad you’re here.”

Paul murmured, “Glad I came.”

Daryl rolled his eyes at the unfortunate pun and kissed him again.

 

* * *

 

“Do you believe in fate?”

“I’m way too fuckin’ sober for this conversation,”

“Don’t be an asshole, come on,”

Daryl chuckled, patting Paul’s leg. They were sitting outside, enjoying the cool air, having a beer. Daryl had brought out the chairs, and Paul was more than relaxed, his feet up on Daryl’s lap. “I dunno, depends why you’re askin’.”

“No, no, you can’t be biased. I need you to answer honestly.”

“Alright,” Daryl took a small sip, running his hand over Paul’s leg, squeezing his knee. “You askin’ because you’re wonderin’ if it’s fate that made this happen, right?” he asked, looking over at Paul who was smiling innocently. “Nah, I don’t.”

“How come?”

“Well, if I believed in fate, I think it wouldn’t have gotten me abused by my dad.” He said easily, and he shook his head when Paul’s face fell. “Fate, God, whatever it was supposed to be, it wasn’t on my side. We end up where we end up cause we gotta. You came here cause you wanted to, not cause it was a force of nature.” He tapped Paul’s knee before looking over at him. “Do you?”

Paul shrugged. “I like the idea of a higher power—God, fate, destiny. The power of the universe. But I also like what you’re saying. That we choose. That I chose you.”

Daryl nodded. “I don’t wanna leave my life to someone else. Did that when I was a kid, and I got beat for it.”

“Daryl,” Paul took his legs of Daryl and moved his chair closer, kissing his cheek. “You didn’t give your life to him. You were a kid, what happened was out of your control.”

“Exactly,” Daryl said, looking into his eyes. “Which is why I say fuck fate, destiny, all of it. I ain’t gonna let that happen to me again.” He didn’t say the rest of it, but what he wanted to say was _I’m not going to let Merle do what my father did._

Paul sighed, taking Daryl’s beer and setting it down on the grass before he climbed on Daryl, sitting on his lap and wrapping his arms around Daryl’s neck. “How about I believe that fate put us in each other’s way that way we could find a way out of the lives we had before? And I also believe that there’s enough free will in fate to mean that we still chose each other.”

Daryl’s hand cupped the side of Paul’s face. “Do you think that maybe fate should have given you someone be—”

“Don’t say better,” Paul snapped, shaking his head. “You do that even online. You put yourself down, when you shouldn’t have. What happened to you doesn’t define you, it doesn’t make you less.” He sighed, kissing both of Daryl’s cheeks, his nose, and then his mouth softly. “Fate, no fate, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to be put in my path.”

“No matter what happens huh? No matter how fast?”

Paul nodded. “I’m not afraid of your brother.”

Daryl sighed, turning Paul so he was on his side, the two of them leaning against each other, Daryl’s arm wrapped around Paul’s side, resting on his thigh. “Let’s just…enjoy this.” He sighed, looking up at the stars. Paul titled his head on  Daryl’s, their free hands twining together, and they stayed silent for the next hour before Daryl drove Paul back to his hotel, promising to see him tomorrow.

But Daryl knew on his drive back home, that tomorrow would not be as kind as today was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!!!
> 
> thank you all for the lovely comments! theyve been making me smile and want to write for you all. i know it seems like its happening fast, but you know, theyve known each other for a long time and daryl and paul deserve to be happy bc rip the show will never make them this happy so i gotta do it lmao
> 
> keep commenting please :D love you all


	4. merle dixon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: f-slur

Like everyone else in the world, Daryl was not a fan of Mondays.

With Mondays came work, and with work came responsibility. Daryl was good with the responsibility of work, he was a natural, and he was excellent at his job. But Mondays also meant that Daryl had more than the responsibility of just work. He had to deal with his brother. And after the past two, unreal days that he had, he didn’t want to deal with his brother. He loved Merle, but he didn’t like him—and that on its own was a very strange line to walk. It meant that Daryl would kill for him, but it also meant that Daryl was angry with him, because more often than not the person Daryl would kill for Merle didn’t deserve it, and Merle probably got himself into that situation on his own.

Mostly, Daryl hated this particular Monday because he wanted to live and die in the feeling that he had for the past two days. He wanted to turn back time and kiss Paul, and remember who he was and why he was here and give himself something to live for. Not that a person was Daryl’s sole reason for existence, but in this life, where every day was the same as the one before—

It felt nice to be wanted. For the days to mean something different now.

“Hey lil’ bro!” Merle exclaimed, coming into the garage half an hour late.

“Hey Merle,” Daryl said from under the hood of Paul’s car. He sighed and moved away from it, looking over at him. His brother stalked in with a cigarette in his mouth and a wicked gleam in his eyes, that same sneaky smile he always had on his lips. “Where’ve you been all weekend?” he asked. Not that he wanted Merle to come around, but the fact that he didn’t was a little strange.

“You know me little brother. Just conductin’ some business.”

“So, drugs.”

“Keep your voice down!” Merle hissed.

“Merle,” Daryl scoffed. “Whole damn town knows you sell drugs. They’re just too afraid to say anythin’.”

“Good,” Merle smiled stupidly. “That’s the way I like it. Whose shitbox is that?”

“New guy in town,” Daryl mumbled nonchalantly. “Nothin’ too bad about it, I’ll have it fixed in a few hours.”

“Have a blast.” Merle grinned.

“You got work to do too bro,” Daryl called as he watched Merle walk towards the office. He shook his head and went back to working on the car. These were the days—tinkering away while he tried to get Merle to do his job, which was sometimes more difficult than working on the car.

To his surprise Merle _did_ bound out of the office, a wrench in hand, twisting it around excitedly. “Got plans tonight bro?”

“Dunno,” Daryl looked over at him. “Why?”

“Got us some nice ladies lined up.”

“Oh,” Daryl cleared his throat, turning back towards the car. “You know, don’t think I’m really in the mood. Not feelin’ too good.”

“Yeah, townies said you were shut up in that damn cabin of yours all weekend. Ain’t like you to get sick.” Merle said from the car next to him, getting down on the slider and dipping himself under the car. “But you sound fine now, which is all that matters. You gotta come with me and the boys baby brother, there’s a whole group of gals to take your pick from.”

Daryl sighed. “Don’t think girls are just mine to…pick.”

“Why not?” Merle asked. “You gotta get laid little bro.”

“Don’t gotta do shit.” Daryl murmured. “And you should leave it alone. If I don’t wanna I don’t gotta.”

Merle laughed, “Like you have a choice.”

Daryl sighed in agitation. Yes, he really hated Mondays.

 

* * *

 

 **Daryl:** Hey, tonight I don’t think I can sneak around with you. My brother wants me out with him

 **Paul:** No way around that?

 **Daryl:** Don’t think so, no

 **Paul:** I love a challenge

 **Daryl:** This ain’t a challenge. Haven’t told him yet, and if he sees us, he’ll kill you

 **Paul:** Did you forget I’m a black belt?

 **Daryl:** Did you forget he’s a drug dealer?

 **Paul:** Relax, you won’t even know I’m there

 **Daryl:** I doubt that. Whatever, how’s your first day

 **Paul:** Good! I like my class, I don’t know how great I’m doing as a teacher, since it’s my first day but you know, the kids don’t seem that terrifying yet so that’s a good start. I made a friend, her name is Tara. She’s a lesbian!!!!

 **Daryl:** So?

 **Paul:** So? Lesbian and gay solidarity! It so rarely happens, there’s such a bad precedence.

 **Daryl:** I’ll take your word for that

 **Paul:** Anyway she and her girlfriend want to do a double date with us. I couldn’t shut up about you—and don’t worry, they don’t live in town. The school is a fifteen minute ride from where you are, but Tara actually lives in that town so yeah

 **Daryl:** I ain’t so good with the small talk

 **Paul:** Luckily I talk enough for the both of us

 **Daryl:** Got that right

“Who you textin’?” Merle asked, coming over. Daryl quickly shoved his phone in his pocket, his mouth blurting out Rick’s name. Merle made the same face that he always did and rolled his eyes, “That asshole, huh?”

Daryl rolled his eyes, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, and itching to answer it. “He ain’t an asshole. You just don’t like him cause he was the only one who didn’t take your damn shit around here.”

Merle scoffed as he bit into his sandwich. “Glad that prick left.”

Daryl didn’t answer, mostly because it wasn’t the first time they had this conversation. A lot of people had left this town, and besides the fact that Daryl hated like he would forever be stuck here. Worse still, was when Rick had left. Rick was his one piece of _goodness_ in this terrible world, before he had picked up and left. And it was hard for Daryl to just…allow it to happen, to not follow, to stay here, with his brother, in the toxic place with these toxic people.

Who knew about the beatings he got.

Who knew about his drug dealing brother.

Who knew this his mother never helped him.

Rick knew, Rick knew and he was the one who put his dad away. Rick knew, and helped when he could, and let Daryl sleep over when everything was too much, and that’s exactly why Daryl had to let him go.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Daryl mumbled.

Merle shrugged. “Sure.”

“You ever think about going to see dad?”

“In jail?” Merle snorted. “Hell no, and he has another five years before that assfuck is gonna be back on the streets before I gotta worry about it.”

“About us,” Daryl corrected him quietly.

“What?”

“Worry about _us,_ not just you.” Daryl wrapped up the rest of his sandwich. “You weren’t the only one in that fuckin’ house.”

“Don’t be such a baby, you know what I meant.”

“Sure,” Daryl mumbled. He sighed and got up. “Gotta go to work.”

Merle of course, didn’t realize that anything was wrong with what he said, or that he had made Daryl upset, so he chuckled to himself, before saying, “Don’t get too dirty bro, we got some ladies to fuck tonight.”

“Great.” He mumbled, squinting when he saw a car roll up—with someone all too familiar in the passenger seat. “For the love of God,” he growled, jogging to the office to get the keys to Paul’s finished car. Looking over his shoulder to make sure Merle wasn’t following or looking, he walked over to the car. In the driver’s seat was a girl that Daryl did not know, who was not getting out of the car, but Paul slid out with all of his grace and glory, his hair to his shoulders and a wide smile on his face.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Daryl asked.

Paul rubbed his beard. “Good to see you too angel,” he mumbled. “You called me this morning, you said my car was done.”

“But…” he shook his head. “Merle’s here.”

“So what?” Paul said. “I’m just a customer picking up my car.” He held out his hand for the keys, and Daryl sighed and smiled, dropping the keys into it.

Daryl shook his head. “Come on,” he mumbled, tugging at the bottom of Paul’s shirt in a moment of weakness, bringing him along to the garage where Paul’s car was. Then, because the universe was against him, Merle walked through to the main area, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hiya,” Paul said brightly. Merle didn’t respond but Paul didn’t seem concerned. Instead, he turned back to Daryl and said. “So? You said it was three hundred right?”

Daryl nodded. Actually, it was three hundred and twenty four dollars, but Daryl already didn’t want to charge him, and so had left out what he could. Paul fished out his wallet and took out a couple of fifties and handed them to Daryl, his fingertips brushing Daryl’s wrist.

Daryl nodded. “Don’t you want your bill?” he swallowed.

“Nah, I trust you.” Paul smiled brightly, winking so that Merle did not see, and then turned on his heels, calling a quick, “See you around!” he walked over to his car and got in, and Daryl, with a heavy heart watched him back out of the driveway away from him.

 

* * *

 

 

Daryl moved his glass between his hands, looking at the beer swish around it. His brother and his friends sat there with him, girls scattered around the table with him, one of the girls with a hand on Daryl’s thigh, placed there and occasionally rubbing the spot. Daryl got no pleasure from her, but he knew that saying no would result in a fight with his brother, and avoiding that was more important than anything.

Merle was telling a story about yet another guy he beat up in some town that was not theirs, their friends laughing about it, their faces lit up in pure glee. Daryl smiled when he was looked at, and that was it. He didn’t talk much, he was itchy with want, want and desire that he couldn’t get from this place.

The girl next to him wasn’t _not_ pretty, she was just…well, the fact that she wasn’t a boy was the first problem. Daryl was unaware if he was gay or not; he certainly thought he was more _gay_ than he was anything else. He had sex with women before, but he had never really liked it, and so the women had dwindled out unless forced upon him by his brother and the one night stands of his choosing were often men. But it was hard to even _want_ someone, and it took a lot of time for Daryl to get off, which made Daryl wonder about how much he liked boys or girls or if he liked anything or anyone at all.

Daryl had looked it up once. The internet was his best friend. Asexuality, bisexuality, demisexuality. Daryl assumed he fell somewhere between those three things, but he was not someone to define it, mostly because it gave him a headache.

None of this mattered with Paul.

Maybe because with Paul everything was so much more.

“—get some shots,” Merle mumbled, about to get up.

Daryl shook his head, bolting upwards. “I’ll go,” he breathed in relief, doing anything to get away from this suffocating table. He grabbed the twenty Merle threw at him and smiled briefly at the girl next to him before he wedged his way out, going over to the bar, running his hands through his hair.

He grabbed the stool and sat there, deciding to take as much time as he could now that he was away. He shook his head at the bartender who came his way, wanting to prolong his time here before he had to go back as much as possible.

“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” said a smooth voice. A much too smooth voice.

Daryl’s eyes widened and he snapped to attention, looking to his right, where Paul Rovia slid onto the stool next to him. His hair was in a messy bun, his eyes bright and lovely, wearing fitting clothes in all black that made Daryl’s heart skip a beat. “Jesus,” he snapped—more out of surprise than trying to use his code name, “What are you doin’ here?” he asked, for the second time that day.

“I’m here to save you,” Paul responded brightly. He was holding a beer bottle in his hands, half drunk. He looked over at Merle’s table before glancing back at Daryl. “You look like you’re about ready to die.”

“What gave it away?” Daryl mumbled. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Hey, we’re just two guys talking.” Paul shrugged.

“Just talkin’ huh?” Daryl chuckled, shaking his head.

“That and wishing we were fucking in one of the bathroom stalls.”

Daryl had to catch his laugh, but it was hard because his reaction made Paul laugh. He reached under the bar and grabbed Paul’s knee, squeezing it in warning. “Shut up,” he smiled, biting the inside of his cheek to try and get it to stop. Paul was _contagious._ “You ain’t as smooth as you think you are, y’know that?”

“I think I am.”

“I know you think you are.” Daryl swiped Paul’s beer and took a swing of it before handing it back to him. “You’re a little shit is what you are.”

Paul’s eyes glinted. “My apartment is going to be ready in a couple of days.” He murmured. “But I was thinking about swinging by your place tonight, if you’re too scared to sneak in my hotel.”

Daryl shook his head. “Merle’s gonna be piss ass drunk soon enough, sneaking off might work out. Problem is the girl.”

“Just walk out right now,” Paul nudged him. “Live on the edge Dixon.”

“I can’t,” Daryl murmured, his voice and expression thick with apology.

Paul nodded, his eyes soft and understanding. “I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with the same regret that Daryl had inside of him. “I wish…”

“Yeah,” Daryl didn’t need to hear the rest of that sentence. He wished for it too—that life was easy, that Merle was not Merle but Rick instead, that life would be better and kind, and that the easiness of the prior days would have stumbled together for the entire week, and not just the weekend. “Me too.” He murmured.

“Bro!” Merle called, coming up to him, his voice loud and aggressive and much too close. Daryl looked over at Paul in fear before redirecting his attention to Merle, but Paul seemed as comfortable as ever. His face smooth and calm and open. “What’s takin’ so long?”

“Caught up,” Daryl mumbled under his breath.

“You look familiar,” Merle pointed at Paul.

Paul nodded at him. “Your brother fixed my car. I passed by today.”

“Right, right,” he slapped Daryl’s back, hard enough to make him wince, and Paul’s eyes darkened, but his smile remained careful as ever. “You wanna join us?” he asked Paul. “There’s a lot of gash out there to choose from short stuff.”

Paul shook his head. “No thanks, not really my scene.”

“Ah come on,” Merle pushed. “Look at all those pretty girls.”

Daryl got off the stool. “Merle, leave it…”

Paul stared at Merle hard. “I don’t like girls,” he smiled prettily, and Daryl rolled his eyes because he knew shit would hit the fan immediately—

Merle stared at him. “You’re a faggot?”

“Well,” Paul sighed dramatically. “I prefer the word gay, since you know, it’s not a slur.” He slipped off the stool. “See you around Daryl.” He smiled briefly.

Merle pushed Paul back to the bar. “Were you hittin’ on my brother?”

Daryl grabbed Merle’s arm, “Merle, he wasn’t—”

Paul glared at Merle. “You know, gay men have control of their hormones, unlike you straight little fucks who treat women like objects to just fuck.”

Merle’s rage took over. He raised his fist, ready to strike Paul down, ready to beat him—to destroy who Daryl had grown to care for so deeply so quickly. “Merle, stop it!” Daryl wedged himself between the two of them. “Hey, stop, he wasn’t doin’ anythin’.” He put his hands on Merle’s chest and shook his head. “Stop.”

“I don’t want some gay shithead hittin’ on my brother! You ain’t a fairy!”

_This is it. This is your moment. Take it._

“Merle,” Daryl shook his head. “Let it go man, please. Let’s go.” He pushed Merle back, pushing him around hard enough to make him walk around to the table.  Throwing a discreet look of apology to Paul, who shook his head, knowing that this was a difficult situation. That Daryl did not have to come out if it did not suit him.

Yes, Merle was dangerous.

It was unsafe for him to come out.

But his whole life had been unsafe, and Paul made him feel better about those things.

Daryl was three steps away from Paul before he stopped, taking a deep breath, trying to settle his insides. Merle was at the table, looking at him, waiting. Paul’s back was turned away, twirling the beer bottle in his hand.

Daryl decided.

He turned on his heels and walked forward to Paul, turning him around on his stool. “Daryl—,” Paul breathed, but his word was cut off. Daryl grabbed Paul’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply, with as much feeling as he could. There was a roar somewhere behind him, but Daryl was dazed for a moment—he was kissing someone he liked, a boy, not just a boy but Paul, and _god these seconds mattered, they were good and pure—_

And then Daryl felt his body get ripped away by Paul, and before he could react, there was a hard blow to his head, and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!! hope you liked the chapter, thank you for the comments, they make me smile and help me write the next chapter. so keep them coming :D


	5. family

Daryl slipped in and out of consciousness.

His body felt as though it was being weighed down by bricks, by a million of them. His head, he was sure, was supposed to be aching, but the heaviness of his body told him that he was probably on drugs. Every time clarity came for him, he was surprised with just how much he was able to recall before sleep took him again.

Every once and a while, he would hear people talk, and the voices were familiar to him, so familiar that it made him ache, but the drugs were too heavy for him for him to reach out, to call out for the people he cared about so much.

The first person he had heard was Rick. Which seemed fitting, considering not only the circumstances, but that in a state such of this, of course, the first person to be by his side would be his best friend.

_“…charges for drugs. I don’t know how he’ll take it, whether it’s for the best or not.”_

_“How much is the bail?”_ That voice, that was Paul. Daryl wanted to wake up, he was trying so hard, but he was already close to slipping away again.

Rick’s voice was heavy with emotion, one that Daryl didn’t understand. If he could see Rick’s face, if he could just open his eyes. _“Daryl won’t pay it.”_

Daryl wanted to say something, he wanted to look at Paul, he wanted to reach for Rick, and he wanted to wake up. But instead, he slipped.

 

* * *

 

When Daryl woke up, he was not alone.

To his great, and deep surprise, it was not Paul or Rick who was with him. Sitting at the end of his bed, with her feet close to his arm, was a young girl with bright blonde hair and a sweet looking face. She was reading a book, something about musicians, and was smiling softly. There was a chair next to him, and in it was a Korean man, younger than Daryl but older than the blonde, looking at her with such an enormous amount of kindness that it made Daryl’s heart ache, for the amount of love he had for them. How much he missed them.

“Glenn?” he tried to speak, his voice coming out rough. “Beth?”

Glenn Rhee looked from Beth to Daryl, his eyes lighting up spectacularly. “Daryl,” he breathed in relief, moving his chair closer, his hand going out to grab Daryl’s. Daryl held on as tight as he could because his friend was here—his friend. Someone he loved.

“Daryl!” Beth’s singsong voice sounded through the room, like wind chimes. Beth was Daryl’s little sister in every way except blood, but he would kill for her. “You’re awake.”

“What are you guys doin’ here?”

Glenn answered swiftly, keeping his hold on Daryl. “Rick called us. The hospital has Rick listed as your emergency contact, and on his way, he called us and we got the first flight over. Maggie couldn’t come since she’s too far into being pregnant, so Hershel is with her.”

Daryl shifted in the uncomfortable hospital bed, there was a dull ache by his head, nothing too painful, but still there all the same. There was something else by his ribs, sore beyond belief, but they didn’t feel broken. “Y’all didn’t have to come.”

Beth stared at him in that knowing way she always did, with her bright eyes. “You’re happy we’re here.”

Daryl chewed the inside of his lip, trying not to smile. “Maybe,” he nodded. He looked over at Glenn. “Maggie good?”

“She’s fine man,” Glenn sighed, squeezing Daryl’s hand. “You’re the one we’re worried about.”

“M’fine,”

“You’re not fine. You got some stitches right near your eye, you’re lucky that the glass didn’t get you any closer.”

“Glass?”

Beth nodded. “Your friend Paul said that after your brother hit you in the back of the head, Paul tried to intervene and there was a scuffle, and a bottle was in the crossfire. You have some cuts on your arms but nothing serious, and one bad cut by your eye, but mostly over your eyebrow, so you’re okay. Until your brother’s friends kicked at your ribs.”

“Explains the ache,” Daryl sighed.

“They’re bruised, not broken.”

“Lucky me.”

Glenn sighed. “Dude, what happened?”

Daryl remembered, but he didn't say right away. He remembered that he had made a choice, he had chosen Paul, to come out, to show his brother that he wanted to be not just with someone, but with a boy. He had changed his life in that one small moment. “Paul didn’t say?”

“No, but Rick got the information from the local cops, and they said it was your business to tell us.”

Daryl sighed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. He closed his eyes, trying to settle the pounding in his brain before he looked back at Glenn and Beth. “Merle hit me because I kissed Paul.”

To his surprise, Glenn and Beth didn’t look surprised. Beth and Glenn exchanged looks, before Beth shrugged. “We kind of figured it was something like that,”

“What?” Daryl asked.

Glenn grinned. “When we showed up, Rick was talking to the cops in the hallway, and when we came in the room, Paul was on the chair asleep next to you holding your hand. We never saw him before, so we knew he wasn’t just some friend.”

Beth nodded. “Since you know, we know all your friends.”

“Sorry I didn’t say—”

Glenn shook his head. “Daryl, it’s not our business. It’s yours. You live in a really small town and grew up in a really homophobic family, if you didn’t want to tell, that’s your own business.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say, overwhelmingly moved by the amount of love and acceptance two people could have, the nonchalantness of the whole thing, that he smiled gently. Beth tapped his knee. “He’s really cute.” She offered.

“Yeah,”

“And seems very nice.”

“He is,”

“Are we invited to the wedding?”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Funny. Where is he?”

“He went on a coffee run, he’s a busybody.”

Daryl nodded, and then, because he had to ask, because it was killing him, because after all this time, it would always kill him, “Where’s Rick?”

Beth moved forward, kissing Daryl on the forehead. “We’ll go get him,” she slipped off the bed and grabbed Glenn’s hand. “Come on,” she sang, Glenn throwing Daryl a wink before following Beth out of the room.

Daryl lay there, staring at the door for what seemed like a lifetime, waiting and waiting before finally, the door opened again, and in came Rick Grimes.

Paul Rovia was beautiful to be certain, but Rick…there wasn’t a word for what Rick was, what he would always be to Daryl. It was a bond that transcended anything platonic or romantic, anything about what was on the outside. Their bond was something that sometimes, they didn’t even properly understand. They knew what it meant to have no one but each other, and what it also meant to find a family and still hold tightly to one another.

He stood there, with a growing beard and salt and pepper hair, kind blue eyes and a soft smile on his face. He was dressed simply, but there were circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept much, knowing Rick, he probably hadn’t closed his eyes since he got here.

“Daryl,” he smiled, and his voice sounded like home, like safety. This was the man who knew him before Paul, the man who housed him when he showed up beaten and bloody from his father, the man who went into the police force to put Daryl’s father away, the man who came for Daryl for his every beck and call.

“Hey man,” Rick came over and sat on the bed, and just because it was the two of them, he did what they would have done when they were sixteen, and Daryl would have shown up crying at Rick’s door. Rick moved forward and pressed his forehead against Daryl’s, and they breathed each other in, focusing on themselves. Remembering they were alive, and together, and safe.

When they pulled apart, Daryl thought it best to get straight to the point. “You put him away.” He mumbled.

“I wish,” Rick admitted. “But no, the local cops took care of it. Paul didn’t press charges, but he didn’t need to. Witnesses saw who started the fight, and it gave the cops a reason to look into Merle a little more. People came forward quickly, since they like you, and he got busted for dealing and holding, as well as public disturbance and harassment.”

“Jesus,” Daryl shook his head, his head heavy. “For how long?”

“Ten years, seven if he’s on good behavior.” Rick shrugged, shaking his head. “Enough time for you to get the hell out of this town.”

“Rick…”

“Atlanta is a nice place.”

“I can’t just leave.”

“Merle was the only thing keeping you here.” Rick put up his hands when he saw that Daryl was about to argue. “I’m dropping it, I’m dropping it.” he shook his head, and squeezed Daryl’s hand. “Can’t believe we’re back here again.” He looked around the hospital room. “Feel like we should have a VIP pass to this place.”

Daryl nodded. “Been through worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” Rick looked back at him. “Are you going to go see him?”

Daryl nodded again. “Yeah, I gotta. He’s a prick, but he’s still my brother. I ain’t gonna bail him out but...I gotta see him. Explain things…”

“You don’t have a damn thing to explain, you know that right? You found someone you care about. His mind is…” Rick sighed. “He doesn’t understand because he doesn’t want to. And he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt. You know that right? That you deserve better?”

“That’s what I keep hearin’,” Daryl sighed. “What about you? How’s Michonne?”

“Good,” Rick murmured. “Real good. Kids are as in love with her as I am. They miss their uncle Daryl.”  

Daryl nodded. “Miss them too.” He bit his lip before he curled his hand tighter around Rick’s. “Do you ever think…about…” he couldn’t say it. He didn’t want to say it, it _hurt_ him to say it. To say any of it. Their past, their friendship that was not ever a friendship, all the stuff that happened before Lori, before she died, before he moved—

“I do sometimes,” Rick knew what Daryl was talking about, because that’s how they were. They always knew. “About what life could have been like for us, if it had been kinder to you. Maybe it was me. Maybe I should have just taken the lead and gotten you out.”

“Wasn’t your fault,”

Rick shrugged. “Yes or no, doesn’t matter. It is what it is. I think about it, but then you know, I wouldn’t have Carl or Judith, and you wouldn’t have Paul.” He smiled lightly. “He seems like a real good guy. How long have you been seeing him and not telling me?”

“Three months.” Daryl grinned. Technically, it was not a lie.

“Well,” Rick patted Daryl’s face tenderly, making him frown, and making Rick laugh, “There were a lot of things you did not deserve in this life Daryl Dixon, but let me tell you one thing. If there was one thing you _do_ deserve, it is to be loved.”

“I don’t think…I mean, we haven’t said anythin’…”

“He loves you,” Rick murmured.

“How do you know?”

“Because he didn’t have to stay here, but he did. Fell asleep by your side, is getting your friends coffee, and is trying to impress me like his life depends on it.”

“Maybe he’s just bein’ nice.”

“Maybe,” Rick’s eyes sparkled. “Or maybe he’s in love.”

Daryl shrugged, and tried to hide his smile, but failed miserably.

 

* * *

 

Five minutes after that, Rick left the room, and Paul burst into it like a man on the run. “You’re awake!” he exclaimed. He rushed over to the bed and put his knee on it, getting up and framing Daryl’s face in his hands, cradling it like Daryl was the most fragile thing in the entire world. It was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once, but Daryl loved it. Before Daryl could say anything, Paul kissed him passionately.

Daryl whimpered, in pain, not from physical injuries but from longing—and from coming together. Sometimes coming together was just as painful a process as coming apart. And he had been waiting for Paul to do this since he woke up. It was soft and lovely, and Daryl wanted so much more.

When they pulled apart, there were tears in Paul’s eyes. “My God, finally,” Paul whispered. “Jesus Christ, I was so scared.”

“M’fine,” Daryl smiled briefly. “You? You look okay.”

“Black belt,” Paul kissed Daryl’s nose. “Kicked ass, you should have seen me.”

“Rick told me you didn’t press charges.”

“I figured you and Merle both had enough problems.” Paul twisted a strand of Daryl’s hair behind his ear. “I wanted to, but you know…it’s not my place.”

“Will you come with me?” Daryl asked immediately. “To go see him?”

“Sure angel,” Paul sighed, laying down next to Daryl, curling up next to him. He lay on his side so that they could stare into each other’s eyes, Daryl’s hand twined with Paul’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Drugged up.”

“Besides that,”

“Dunno,” Daryl murmured. “Like…like I should have seen this comin’, maybe. I dunno. Feel like I ruined his life, but…I guess also, he made this choice.”

“And are you happy? With the choice that you made?”

Daryl nodded, pushing his head forward to meet Paul’s, their noses brushing together. Daryl stayed in that position, the proximity making him feel much better. “Ended up in the hospital for you. If that doesn’t show you how much I love ya, don’t know what will.”

Paul moved back, staring at Daryl with wide eyes. “You what?”

Daryl met his gaze. “Love you,” he said again. “And no, it’s not the drugs.”

Paul laughed, and one of the tears he had been holding back finally slipped out. “This is crazy. We hardly know each other.”

“I know you,” Daryl reminded him. “You know me. We just met in person, but we know each other. I told you before, I choose. And I kissed you for a reason.”

Paul laughed to himself, shaking his head and got back down, pressing his lips against Daryl’s cheek, his lips, his neck, his shoulder—“Daryl Dixon, I love you too.” He whispered, almost like he was afraid to say it. Daryl never thought it would be that, that he would be the braver one to say I love you. That he would even ever say it at all.

He had said it once.

To Rick.

But it was okay to love people differently, and what he had with Rick, when they were teenagers was one thing, and this was better, not that Rick was bad, but this was different in a good way. Because Daryl was in a better place in his life. Rick was a lifeline, Paul could be his equal.

“You and Rick gettin’ along?” he asked.

Paul kissed Daryl’s neck again. “He cares about you a lot. I mean, you told me, when we started talking that you and him used to kind of be a thing, but he really loves you.”

“He’s my brother.”

“Only?”

“Only,” Daryl assured him. “I’ll tell you that whole long ass story in detail some other time.”

Paul chuckled. “You mean like I told you my long ass stories about me and Alex?”

“Well, I always asked.”

“Either way,” Paul sighed. “I mean it in a good way, not in a jealous way. It makes sense that he loves you. Why wouldn’t he?”

“Gave him plenty of reasons not to over the years.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Another day,” Daryl sighed. “Another day. For now, I wanna just…lay here. And be with you. I’ll deal with the rest when I get out of here. One day at a time.”

Paul kissed Daryl again, right on the mouth. “One day at a time. Sleep, angel.”

“You’ll stay?” Daryl asked, and on cue, Daryl’s eyes began to slip. He was much more tired than he realized, apparently.

“Always,”

So Daryl let his eyes shut, holding onto Paul tightly, his life turned completely upside-down, but he felt a little better knowing that he lay next to someone he loved, and that his family had crossed cities and states, to be with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Okay so this chapter wasn't supposed to happen at this AT ALL lmao, there was supposed to be more merle/daryl/paul stuff, but i postponed it until the next chapter, because i got so carried away with writing daryl's friendships/family ties
> 
> next chapter though, daryl will go visit merle in jail, and daryl and paul take the next step in their relationship *insert suggestive face here*
> 
> also, this chapter has me thinking ill do a daryl dixon prequel of his teenage years, and what he had to go through with his father, and with rick....comment below if you think that's a good idea :)
> 
> xx thanks for the love


	6. the first time

“You okay?” Paul whispered.

Daryl nodded, except he wasn’t. But he didn’t want to think about it too hard. Not that he couldn’t think about it at all, but he didn’t want to think about it too deeply, otherwise he would either back out or end up too stunned to actually do anything important.

Paul nodded, rubbing his hands on Daryl’s arms. “Do you want to do this alone Daryl?” he asked, for the third time that day. “I mean, I’ll go in with you if that’s what you want, but I mean—”

“I want you there.” He stressed. “Need you there. Keep me grounded.” He sighed, as they waited for the cop to come bring them into the room, wrapping his arms around Paul. He breathed him in, settling his unsteady heartbeat, taking pleasure in the fact that this man was in his arms.

They were supposed to have gone to see Merle as soon as Daryl had been released from the hospital, but the doctors advised otherwise. They wanted Daryl to heal completely just in case something went badly in jail, and Paul wouldn’t hear about anything but that. No matter how much he and Daryl argued, Daryl had been unable to really disagree, Paul was lenient in a lot of things, but he didn’t budge for that. So Daryl had to wait three weeks before Paul agreed to take him.

Those three weeks of healing had been some of the best weeks of Daryl’s life.

Paul had helped him hire someone at the garage, one to help him out permanently since he had lost Merle. It was a girl named Sasha, who seemed tough as nails and not the kind of girl to take shit from people. Daryl liked her right away. She worked twice as hard and as fast as Merle, so she was basically amazing. Besides that, he and Paul were getting _a lot_ closer.

Daryl went into detail about everything he had never told Paul—about the true terrors that were his childhood. The harm that had been opposed on him by his father, the indifference of his mother, and the constant absence of his brother. He told Paul about the strangeness of his and Rick’s relationship, how they were each other’s first everything, which is why they were still so close today. How Rick had saved him time and time again. Daryl told Paul about the harm that Daryl had inflicted on himself too, how he had not known self-love for most of his life, and thought that maybe he deserved the beatings. Paul had cried for a lot of these conversations but never interrupted him. He allowed Daryl to say everything he wanted to say and then would kiss him and tell him over and over how much he was worth.

During the three weeks, another thing they did was develop their physical relationship. Paul had been taking the lead on that best he could, mostly because Daryl was not allowed to move very much. But they had done plenty of things worth remembering. They had done everything except the thing Daryl was itching for the most, but Paul and he had both agreed that they wanted to do that when he was feeling one hundred percent.

Needless to say, Paul was excellent in bed. The kissing was good, the kissing was excellent actually, and as soon as it started to get heavier between them, Daryl just allowed Paul to take control. They had done so much, with their hands, their mouths, exploring each other in ways that Daryl never took advantage of before with any of his other lovers. Mostly because he never wanted to before, and with Paul, he wanted to take his time with Paul, to learn and explore and discover. They had both done it to each other, figuring out what the other liked or didn’t.

Paul as it turned out, really, really liked when Daryl used his mouth. Daryl liked it too, giving himself away like that, and either controlling it himself or allowing Paul to just slip his hands into Daryl’s hair, and set the pace and roughness. Daryl didn’t mind getting a little rough because afterward, the care that happened between the two of them was enough to make Daryl swoon.

For some other stuff, it took a lot of coaxing to allow Daryl to give in. Not because he didn’t trust Paul, but because he had never known what it meant to be vulnerable with someone. So he had to be the one to do it to Paul first. Paul had been laid out on back, and Daryl had worked him open slowly—it had taken some time because Paul was not used to being underneath someone, but the result of it had been one of the best things that Daryl had ever seen. Paul was more than vocal, egging Daryl on, moving his body and Daryl’s hand the way he liked. When he climaxed, Daryl couldn’t help himself—he followed suit, without touching himself. Paul said it was almost enough to make him go again.

When they had reversed positions, it was the most wonderful thing Daryl felt. Paul had kissed him breathless as they went about it, because he wanted to feel as close as possible, and Daryl felt like he could only manage that with enough physical contact that it would take away from the strange feeling inside of him.

Strange but wonderful. And it definitely made Daryl wanting more. That’s what he had to look forward to. They both had talked about it and thought they were ready, and Daryl thought it was weird to talk about it, but Paul said that if you couldn’t talk about it with someone you cared about, then maybe you weren’t ready. So they talked, and talked some more, and came to that agreement.

And now, here they were, in a jail, waiting to meet with Daryl’s older homophobic brother.

“We’re ready for you,” the cop came back in, the door kept open.

Daryl released Paul and looked over to the cop, nodding. His hand swept down Paul’s arm, grabbing his hand and holding it tight in his. He refused to let go.

They walked through the room, looking straight ahead. Daryl ignored everything and everyone around him, his eyes zeroing in on Merle, who was sitting at a table, glaring at the two of them. Luckily, Merle who was not as stupid as he looked, and so did not start a riot right inside the place, with the cops everywhere.

“What’s he doin’ here?” Merle asked when Daryl sat down.

Daryl breathed in and out slowly, their hands tight under the table. Paul said nothing because they had agreed on that too—that he would remain silent. Daryl wanted him here, but everything else, he knew that he had to do it on his own. “Merle, c’mon…” he murmured.

Merle crossed his arms. “He’s the reason I’m in here lil’ bro,”

“No,” Daryl said sadly. “You’re in here cause you started a god damn brawl, and nearly killed me. You’re in here cause you sell drugs.”

Much to Daryl’s surprise, guilt actually flashed across Merle’s face for a brief moment. “Didn’t try and kill you…”

“You knocked me in the back of the head,” Daryl snapped, his words sounding terrible in his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to lose his temper so quickly, but that’s where Paul had stepped in. Paul’s hand squeezed tighter around his, and he shifted closer to their legs were aligned. “After everythin’ dad did…”

“I ain’t him,” Merle growled.

“Then what are you?” Daryl asked seriously. “Cause I woke up in the fuckin’ hospital. Rick was takin’ care of me. Paul was takin’ care of me. Not you. You put me there.” He sighed, feeling his eyes get heavy with water, but he refused to cry, knowing it wouldn’t help him with Merle. Merle stared at him hard, and Daryl was terribly uncertain as to whether or not this would ever get really, really fixed. “Merle, man, you’re my brother. You think I wanted this?”

“What is it you want baby brother? You want me to fuckin’ be okay that some fairy is bangin’ my brother?”

“Yeah, man, I do,”

“That’s not somethin’ I can do.”

“Why?” Daryl asked. “Why? Why can’t you be happy for me? Life has sucked since day one, I’m fuckin’ tired of this bullshit. My family and friends are all gone, and I finally found someone who I wanna be with. So what the fuck?”

Merle stared at him hard. “Gotta keep the Dixon bloodline goin’, and you getting gangbanged by a bunch of gays ain’t gonna do much for us will it?”

“Jesus Christ,” Paul recoiled. He opened his mouth to say something more, but Daryl gave him a squeeze in warning, to keep him steady.

But Daryl was done too. “I thought…” he shook his head. “Thought we were more important than how you felt about me and him, but I guess I was wrong.” He rubbed his hand over his face and looked at his brother, trying to remember what it felt like for them to be close. If they were ever close to begin with. Or if their lives were a serious of moments together, strung together not by choice but by need. They had no choice. Daryl loved him, but maybe it was okay not to like him. “Bye Merle. Have fun.”

Paul looked up at Daryl, “Daryl…”

“No, come on,” Daryl hoisted him up. “We’re leavin’.” And Daryl walked away from his brother, leaving that hatred behind him.

 

* * *

 

Daryl and Paul went back to Paul’s apartment. In the past three weeks, Daryl had done what he can to help him furnish it, and make it more homely. As much as they were good with each other, both of them also agreed that it was way too early for them to consider living together (even though they spent so many nights sleeping at each other’s houses). But Daryl still liked taking advantage of his privacy and alone time, and liked being in the woods.

The apartment was filled with books and art and music. There were three different guitars stacked on the wall, so many books that they were overflowing from their shelves. Instead of walls, there were paintings, and on the coffee table in the main room were scattered magazines. His room was simpler, and messier than Daryl’s, with a television in it, and another stack of books in there as well.

“Are you hungry?” Paul asked him.

“Nah,” Daryl murmured, taking off his shirt and going to the bed. “Too early.” And it was—it was the middle of the afternoon, the sunlight was streaming into the bedroom. He sighed as he relaxed, pulling Paul on the bed with him, keeping him close. Their bodies were pushed together, chest against chest, feet tangled, noses touching. Daryl let out a deep sigh of pure relief.

Paul kissed Daryl’s nose. “Do you want to talk?”

“Nothin’ to say.”

“There’s plenty to say.”

Daryl shrugged. “Always knew it would go down that way,” he breathed out slowly. “Dunno why I expectin’ somethin’ different. He is who he is.”

“It’s not right.”

“I know, but don’t change a thing. Some people just stay as they are and look where they fuckin’ end up. Jail.”  He laughed bitterly. “Mom died in a fire, dad ended up in prison, and now my bro is there. Seems unavoidable.”

Paul curled Daryl’s hair around his ear and kissed the side of his mouth. “You have your friends, right? You’re not alone.”

“I know.” Daryl searched for his mouth. “Got you.” He whispered, their lips meeting, finding each other, and keeping Daryl steady and whole.

Their kisses started as they always did, chaste and easy, simple and with small smiles and laughs falling between them. Then because Daryl was so full of want, so, so, full of want, he breathed out, “Please?” and neither one of them had to clarify what that meant. Daryl didn’t have to explain, and Paul nodded eagerly, because he didn’t have to ask what he meant.

Paul swallowed, “Do you want…I mean, you know, on top or—?”

“No,” Daryl pulled him over him. “Do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Paul nodded. “Condom?” He asked. They had discussed this too, condoms. They both got checked during their three weeks, and they were both clean, but Paul told Daryl that if he was ever nervous, then, of course, they could use a condom. Since they hadn’t showered just yet, Daryl nodded—rather to be safe than sorry. Paul nodded and kissed Daryl’s lips quickly, going into his nightstand to grab it.

“C’mon, slowpoke,” Daryl grinned, taking off Paul’s shirt eagerly.

“Daryl,” Paul breathed, trying to push his hair out of the way as Daryl kissed all over Paul’s chest. “Slow down. Are you sure, I mean your brother—”

Daryl looked up at him, putting his hands on the side of Paul’s face. They stared into each other’s eyes, Daryl smiling gently at him. “Wanna know somethin’?” he asked in a whisper, his thumbs brushing against Paul’s cheekbones. He looked into Paul’s intense blue eyes, his face framed by his gorgeous hair. That lovely beard. His beautiful torso.

But more than all of that—his intense, lovely, caring, lovely soul.

“What?” Paul asked, his hands on Daryl’s shoulders.

“I love you.”

Paul’s eyes widened, but Daryl didn’t feel afraid. He knew it was the right time, and the right thing to say. There wasn’t any reason not to want this, or to feel ashamed of it. He wouldn’t think about his brother right now. This is what he deserved.

“Daryl…”

“You don’t gotta say it back.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, and he laughed softly as their lips came together once more, passionately, energetically.

It proceeded easily after that, clothes being thrust aside. There was no nervousness, there was only excitement. It was just lips against lips, lips brushing against shoulders, hips grinding against each other. It was for a brief moment, the two of them curling around each other and holding onto one another, breathing in each other’s skin and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears.

Daryl, trusting Paul completely, lay on his back, and Paul did what he knew how to do best, and kissed Daryl until he couldn’t breathe while he used some lube to help Daryl feel good and relax. They took their time, because they had tons of it. Daryl was glad too, that they were doing this during the day, because Daryl wanted to make sure to see everything he could.

“Okay, c’mon,” Daryl hurried him up. Paul chuckled, slipping on his condom. He leaned down to kiss Daryl, but Daryl stopped him. “I wanna…I wanna see your face.” He admitted. “Please?”

Paul nodded, one hand on Daryl’s hip, and the other holding himself as he pushed in, ever so slowly. Daryl hitched in a breath, because _damn, maybe they should have continued preparing just bit longer, but the burn was oddly satisfying—_

“Daryl,” Paul’s forehead was crinkled. “I need you to breathe and relax,” he huffed, massaging Daryl’s hip and stomach. “Come on,”

Daryl nodded. He wanted to relax, he trusted Paul, but he thought this initial burn would not be that bad. Still, he did his best, and relaxed, the two of them staring at each other. Blue eyes and blue eyes. Love.

Daryl relaxed.

“Holy fuck,” Paul’s body shook. “I need a moment, it’s been a while…” he shook his head, laughing softly.

Daryl nodded, feeling like he was unable to say much. The feeling was amazing and strange all at once. But he was wanting, and he felt more desire than he had ever felt in his entire life. Daryl ran his hands over Paul’s torso, up to his neck, pulling him down for a small moment to kiss him passionately.

When they released, Paul’s eyes were shining, and then he began to move.

Daryl let out a breath of pure relief, the movement inside of him and the brush against his prostate immediately sending a shock down his spine. He kept his hand on Paul’s, twined on his hip as Paul moved fluidly, easily, his eyes shifting from Daryl’s face, to his movements before back up at Daryl. Daryl loved looking at Paul’s face, the emotions too much for him to handle.

It started slow, the two of them getting used to it, but soon enough, Paul’s body started to shake. “M’sorry,” he shook his head, and Daryl shook his head too, pulling Paul down to him. They kissed passionately, Daryl’s erection brushing against Paul’s torso as it happened, and then harder still when they hugged as they made love, Paul’s movements getting faster. The stretch of Paul inside him paired with the constant friction of Paul’s body against his erection pushed him over the edge, and he moaned loudly, Paul shivering on top of him as he came apart barely a minute later, the two of them holding onto each other like their lives depended on each other.

Paul stayed in for a moment after his climax, shuddering against Daryl. Daryl was shaking even worse, his body on high alert, but they kissed themselves back to calmness, before Paul pulled out, kissing Daryl’s chest before taking off the condom and throwing it to the side.

Paul sighed, his hand on his chest. “Wow.”

Daryl stared at the ceiling. “Yeah. Was that…”

“It was great,” Paul answered immediately. “Exactly…no, better how I imagined it.”

“Yeah,” Daryl looked at him, and then smiled softly, moving his hand to touch Paul’s chest. “Hey,”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry now.”

Paul laughed cheerily, and Daryl decided that sex, and laughing right after it, was the best thing that could have happened to him today. “I’ll make you some food.” And then he leaned over and kissed Daryl’s lips, and needless to say, they went another round before Paul made him any food at all.


	7. impasse

Daryl being inside of Paul the way he was, was almost enough to drive him over the edge immediately. They had to take a few moments for him to relax, for Paul to run his soft fingertips over his back, to trace his scars and whisper a million I love yous into his skin before Daryl could think to move again.

It took a lot for Daryl to move this way with love, with meaning and purpose. Because never once had he made love to someone—because yes, to him, there was a difference between making love and fucking, even both involved the same basic movements. Making love was looking into eyes and almost feeling close to tears, and laughing and grinning and holding hands and cuddling after. And Daryl liked it better this way, having it mean something to him.

Paul was patient as ever, which worked out for both of them, because Paul was not used to this position and Daryl wasn’t used to being this overwhelmed. They were still new to this—to each other, to feeling this way and wanting each other this way—so they were not the type of people to try anything too new and exciting.

It was slow.

Very slow.

Daryl moved slowly, languidly, shivering every time Paul would brush his lips across Daryl’s shoulders. Part of his mind suffered at the beginning, every time Paul’s fingers would dip and glide along the ridge and caverns of his scars, but with every thrust, and kiss, and look that they shared, all that self-hatred quietly slipped away

Watching Paul was Daryl’s favourite thing—in some ways it was better than anything physical he could do. Because he got off on knowing that the reason why Paul had that expression was because he was feeling so much pleasure from what Daryl was giving to him. That made Daryl feel almost worthy, knowing that he could do this to someone, that he can make Paul come undone this way.

Daryl knew he was crushing Paul, but Paul wasn’t telling him to move, so Daryl continued what he was doing. There was no space between them, Daryl was holding Paul so close to him, chasing his climax, and when he found it, he used his hand to help Paul reach his own. When it was over and done, they cleaned themselves off, and then showered because they hated being sticky, and then they changed Daryl’s sheets and lay on the mattress in their nakedness and grogginess, and laughed at how free they felt.

“That was…really good,” Paul laughed.

Daryl chuckled and slapped him tenderly on the chest. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that,”

“Well I’m exhausted,”

“So it’s a no for round two?”

Daryl grinned, turning over on his side, pulling Paul with him. “Need a break,” he looked over Paul’s shoulder for a moment, looking at the setting sun through his window, trying desperately to make its way through the trees and into the house. Soon, they would have to turn on the light. “Never thought it would be this easy.”

“Easy huh?” Paul chuckled. “Your brother went to jail a few days ago.”

“Always knew he would end up in jail,” Daryl shrugged best he could being in the position he was in. “People like us, that’s where we end up. Jail or dead.”

“Well you’re living proof that, that is not the case. People make decisions all the time.”

“Some people can’t always make decisions, gotta do the best with what life gave them.”

“I’m not in the mood for a philosophical discussion especially since I know I’m right.”

Daryl snorted lightly. “Maybe I’m the one exception,” he allowed. “But don’t change the fact that a part of you knows I’m right.”

“We’ll agree to disagree. Listen, Merle had a good job and a good place to live. He had a great brother, and literally no reason to do what he was doing. He chose to continue because he liked the money.” Paul put his hand on Daryl’s mouth when he tried to counter him. “Agree to disagree!” he exclaimed. “Let’s just talk about something else.”

“Alright,” Daryl moved his hand away from Paul’s hand and moved forward to kiss Paul tenderly. “So your friend, what’s her name, Tara?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, we can go on that date now,” Daryl told him. “Got nothin’ to hide right?”

“Really?” Paul asked. “What brought that on? I mean I know I mentioned it a while back, but I didn’t think you would actually want to go.”

Daryl sighed and took Paul’s hands and pressed them to his mouth. He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop touching and feeling and falling deeper and deeper. He didn’t think he would ever love this kind of physical affection so much. Yes, he had always been touchy with Rick, but it had taken time, because Daryl was far worse off, and then needing Rick was like needing air. Their relationship was unhealthy and healthy all at once, because even today neither could live without the other.

Paul felt easier. Not better, but easier. And Daryl was taking advantage of that fact.

“Don’t wanna hide,” Daryl sighed. “I mean, town has already seen you hangin’ around the shop like some kind of lost puppy.”

“Hey, I think I’m adorable.”

“That’s your opinion,”

“Oh sure now suddenly I’m not your type,” Paul rolled his eyes in a mock tone, but laughed happily when  Daryl moved in to press kisses all over Paul’s face and neck, his wispy beard tickling Paul’s neck.

“Listen,” Daryl pulled back. “I wish things with my brother would have worked out differently, but they didn’t. This is how it is, and I don’t wanna feel bad about it. So we’re gonna go out with your friends and hold hands and be that annoyin’ couple that I always fuckin’ hate.”

“You know,” Paul laughed, brushing his fingers through Daryl’s hair. “You’re a bigger sap than I realized.”

“Comes and goes.” Daryl grinned.

They leaned forward, their lips coming together—both knowing what they wanted and what they needed from the other. Because Paul was good at it and Daryl was unable to stop wanting it. Their mouths ravaged each other, took over one another, their tongues sliding along each other making Daryl shiver and get hard easily enough, especially once Paul’s hands began to roam. There was no need to talk anymore, they were always talking and always laughing, and sometimes it was okay to say nothing. There was just their breaths overlapping one another, Paul moving so he was on top of Daryl, and then moving lower so he could take Daryl in his mouth and let Daryl see stars. Daryl still felt sensitive but he let that sensation take over him completely, giving into this beautiful thing that he so adored.

He had to tug at Paul’s hair to bring him back up, knowing that if he didn’t Paul would have too much fun and get him to his climax all too early and that was not what Daryl wanted. He brought Paul back up to him and they kissed messily, all hot breaths and roaming hands. Daryl whispered “please” and Paul knew what he wanted, and with some slick to help, he pushed inside of Daryl and Daryl’s legs locked around Paul to keep him in, and they moved quickly, so quickly, because they both wanted it so badly, and when they came they came together—somehow, Paul was able to bring them there together, and then Paul collapsed on Daryl before he pulled out softly, laughing as he landed on his back.

“Wow,” Paul chuckled. “We just showered.”

Daryl got up from his bed. “Wanna take another one?”

Paul took Daryl’s hand. “Round three,” he laughed when Daryl rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one was shorter everyone! not feeling very inspired but wanted to put something soft out anyway!


	8. rosita and tara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: f slur

As it turned out, Rosita and Tara were very nice people. In fact, they were more than just nice, they were downright hilarious. Tara was spunky and quirky, sarcastic and quick. She was always smiling, grandly so. She and Paul got along quite well, which made sense, because they both seemed to have the same kind of humor.

Rosita was more Daryl’s speed—though he appreciated both women very much. He and Rosita just had more to talk about. Rosita grew up around boys, she learned to fight, to hunt, to fix a car, to do everything and anything that boys could do, except she did them better. She told Daryl that she often did things without her brothers, uncles or cousins knowing, do it in a way that would make it seem like she needed help, that way she could surprise them and one-up them every time she had the chance. It made sense, really. Sometimes girls had to go out of their way to be better.

They were somewhere very casual, a diner, with an old time feel to it, a jukebox in the corner playing Elvis. Not really Daryl’s type of music, but he really appreciated the way Paul was singing along to it. Scattered around the table were various burgers, each of them with a milkshake—Rosita’s and Paul’s had alcohol in theirs. Daryl didn’t like drinking, because he felt he could not always control himself when he did, so he had chosen to drive. They had taken the motorcycle out of the city, and it had been wonderful to have Paul on the back of his bike.

“Swear to God,” Rosita shook her head, Daryl tuning back in, in what seemed the middle of her sentence. “Sometimes I walk around with Tara, holding her hand, that’s all, not making out with her or anything, and people stare at me like I’m giving birth in the street.”

Paul chuckled as he sipped some more of his shake, before popping a fry into his mouth. “Yeah, I hear that,” he shook his head, his hand slipping under the table and grabbing Daryl’s knee. “It’s funny walking around with this guy though.”

Daryl shot him a look. “I ain’t funny.”

“No,” Paul agreed with a sly smile. “You’re not.”

“Asshole,”

Paul and Tara laughed while Rosita grinned, before he continued saying, “It’s just you know, they see two guys like us, one redneck and one guy with a long beard and long hair, and to them, since you know, they only have stereotypes in their head, they have no idea. The look on their faces when I grab Daryl’s hand or when we kiss, it’s priceless every time.”

With that, Daryl had to agree. “Ever see a deer in headlights? That’s what they all look like.”

Tara nudged Paul, “Heteros am I right?”

“Cheers to that,” Paul answered, and they clinked their milkshakes together.

“So,” Rosita said, pointing between the two of them. “How long have you two been together?”

Paul answered swiftly, “About forty five years.”

Daryl pinched his shoulder. “About five months,” he answered for the both of them—because yes, he counted the time that they spent over the internet together.

“Ah,” Tara nodded wisely. “So the Honeymoon stage is over, how does it feel to be married?”

Paul laughed while Daryl responded, “Finally get that ball and chain reference.” He grinned a little when Paul retaliated with a pinch of his own and then added, “Nah, it’s all good. He’s not as annoyin’ as he seems.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Who says romanticism is dead?”

Tara grinned at them. “I think you guys make an adorable couple. I like this whole glare and puppy thing you both have going on. One guy to give dirty looks to everyone who passes them by and judges and another to be funny and sarcastic. It’s a nice play off one another.”

Rosita grabbed Tara’s hand and grinned. “They’re the dude versions of us.”

Paul flipped his hair over his shoulder. “Except better looking.”

Tara snorted. “You wish pal.”

 

* * *

 

The ride back was just as good as the ride there. The night had ended wonderfully, not late enough to make Daryl exhausted, but enough that he felt like he had accomplished something. Because yes, going out of his comfort zone the way he did made him feel like he accomplished something important. Daryl had exchanged numbers with both girls, and he was very excited to see where his friendship with Rosita would continue to take him. She even invited him to go do some kickboxing with her at a gym in her town, and Daryl even agreed, looking forward to the prospect of it. Besides, it would be nice to have a friend who was closer to him than Rick was—who was quite a ride away.

Daryl liked riding his bike with Paul in back of him, and not because he got off on the way Paul felt behind him. But rather, it made him feel secure. Paul’s arms were tight around his torso, and though the heavy helmets offset the weight of Paul’s head on his back, it was still comforting to feel him there. Chest against back, legs clutched around Daryl’s, thighs against thighs—the natural comfort of having someone you love, holding onto you, trusting you with their safety. That did something to Daryl. He loved it. Paul was a good driver, but Daryl much preferred to be the one taking control this way. He liked the power, and the strange vulnerability that it offered him.

But, like most things in Daryl’s life, his fleeting moments of joy would come to a close. Such was the life of a Dixon.

He turned off the bike when he pulled up in front of his house, because Paul was going to sleep there tonight, and threw his helmet on the ground when he got off his motorcycle.

Paul stumbled off, and Daryl didn’t have to look at him to know what kind of look he would be wearing. It would be all wide eyes and open mouthed. “Oh my God,” Paul whispered.

For a brief moment, while Daryl took in the state of his home, his legs felt like lead. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, _to him,_ when he did nothing to deserve such a thing.

His house was in shambles.

The windows were broken, the door was unhinged and broken apart—seemingly by an axe. Messily over the outside someone had spray painted the word _fag_ and the word cut Daryl all up inside. He shook his head, trying to make sense of his life, of his existence, wondering for what seemed like the millionth time in his life what he had done to deserve such abuse and hatred. He wondered if it would ever stop.

“Daryl…” Paul’s voice fell apart, because there was nothing else to say, because really, there was nothing that could be said at all.

Daryl didn’t know what to say. So he walked forward into his home, not caring if people were waiting for him on the other side. His home. His _home_. The place he had put so much of himself into, even though there was barely anything inside. It was still his. A place where he had been safe, where his father could not reach him, in the woods that he loved so much. Now it was gone.

The inside was terrible, worse than the outside. Everything was broken, everything was turned over—nothing was working. Glass from his frames were scattered along the floor, his TV was shattered and there was spray paint all over the walls, slurs over his entire house. His bed was ripped up, like someone had taken a knife and just stabbed it, ripped it over and over again. The fridge was open and the food was scattered everywhere, making the house smell terrible.

Daryl shook his head, standing in his home. He felt Paul’s hand take his, but he couldn’t register it as well as he would have liked. It was just a pressure, but no sensation.

“Daryl,” Paul whispered.

“Was my brother,” Daryl said immediately, looking around the house. He nodded slowly, wondering why he wasn’t crying. Or maybe he had cried too much in his life for his tears to mean anything anymore. “I know it.”

“Daryl, he’s in jail.”

“Don’t matter,” he sighed, letting out a big sigh as he looked around the house. “Probably got his friends to do it. Or they did it for him without him askin’. But it was them. No one else would do it.” Daryl knew that as a fact. Though they lived in a rural place, and though he was sure that certain people in his town disapproved of his “lifestyle” none of them would go to this length. They gave dirty looks and thought marriage was for straight people only, but none of them were this extreme. It was all bad anyhow, no matter how someone chose to hate, but this, seeing it all over his home was worse than anything Daryl had ever had to be put through.

Paul kissed Daryl’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry angel.”

Daryl nodded. “This is gonna be a bitch to clean.” He muttered, laughing in disbelief to himself. He was overwhelmed with exhaustion.

Paul shook his head, moving so that he was standing in front of Daryl—he did that purposely, Daryl knew. To take over the view, to control the setting. “You’re going to come live with me,” and the moment Daryl opened his mouth to argue, because he hated accepting help but Paul was faster, and more sensible than he was, “Daryl, I don’t want you here, where they can come for you again. We’re lucky you weren’t home, but if you were, that could have been terrible.”

“But I wasn’t here.”

“But you could have been.” Paul said, and that voice of his, it was strong and determined and the voice that Daryl knew meant he was not going to get very far with this conversation. “Get your stuff, pack what you need, and you’ll come with me. You can stay as long as you want.”

Daryl sighed. “Already movin’ in together huh?” he asked, shaking his head.

Paul put his hands on the side of Daryl’s face, kissing him deeply. Daryl felt it all the way down to his toes, taking away some of the terrible sadness inside him. Knowing that he had someone to fall back on, someone to hold his hand and help him through this terrible disaster made him feel a touch better.

When Paul pulled back he said, “I’m ready for you Daryl.” He shrugged. “Fuck these assholes. Be who you want to be.”

Daryl nodded, pressing his forehead against Paul’s. “Thank you,” he whispered, and then he shut his eyes, because he could not bear to look at his home turned to shreds. It was not the first time, but he hoped, he desperately hoped that it would be the last.


	9. the death

For three beautiful weeks, everything was okay.

Well, as okay as they could be.

Daryl didn’t know whether or not it was okay to feel okay at the beginning. After his house had been torn apart, after losing his brother. But oddly, he didn’t feel terrible. All those things sucked at the very beginning, but after the fact, after the week of pain had passed, he had come to love the situation he was in. Living in an apartment in close quarters with Paul was a lot better than Daryl thought it could be. He wasn’t used to living with someone, beyond family, which didn’t count. At first, he was nervous, but falling into a pattern had been unbelievably easy. Whoever got home first cooked, they both cleaned the house, every time one of them had to leave to do groceries, if they could, they would go together. In the three weeks, they had taken a weekend and done nothing but fuck, eat, and fuck some more for two whole days.

So yes, Daryl was doing pretty well.

Daryl smiled softly when he felt a kiss being peppered along his bare shoulder. A month ago, a mouth on his shoulder, anywhere near his scar would have sent him running for the hills, but now he knew what it meant to have someone touch those scars and love him. Rick had touched them once, more than once, but always because he was patching Daryl up, because he was making sure that Daryl was stitched up and okay, and sure once upon a time, they would hold each other—but not like this. Not without Daryl’s pain and not without Rick’s anger.

“Morning,” Paul’s voice was hot and breathy in his ear, and Daryl shivered from the contact. He grumbled in response, not quite awake yet, but turning his head over and blinking tiredly to look at Paul.

Paul from the looks of it, had already been up for a couple of minutes. His face looked fresh, and his eyes weren’t tired, which meant he had been up long enough to go to the bathroom and wash his face. His hair was flowing this morning, instead of the way he occasionally tied it up.

Daryl grinned and moved forward, pressing his lips tenderly against Paul’s. A brief touch, not enough to get either of them excited, but it did something even better—it reminded Daryl of who he was, and where he was, and that this was the life he had been waiting for his entire life.

Their apartment was made to fit them both, tiny and feeling very much like a home. Books and art were scattered everywhere, the fridge was full of food, photographs were scattered along the walls wherever there was no art. It was busy, maybe, by everyone else’s standards, but for them, it somehow worked. Paul was a frantic person, who was excited and hyper and loved life. And that was this place, and the cleanliness and strange order to the mess was Daryl, who kept Paul grounded. That was how they helped each other.

“Hey,” Daryl whispered, their noses brushing. He sighed and almost brought Paul closer to him, but before he could, Paul pulled away. “Hey,” he forced himself to get up, watching Paul get off the bed. “Where y’goin’?” he yawned, stretching out his arms.

“It’s your birthday,” Paul said over his shoulder. “Stay in bed, just give me a second.”

Daryl had completely forgotten it was his birthday, and even when Paul had mentioned it, it went completely over his head. He couldn’t take the blame though because Paul was wearing only underwear, and he looked so good. “Birthday, huh?” he mumbled, looking over to the nightstand and grabbing his phone.

There was about a million messages from Beth, who always had to make sure that she was heard, and Rick had sent a simple message, but that was the one Daryl cared about. He grabbed it and looked at his phone, actually frowning when he read it.

_Happy birthday_

That was it.

Daryl turned the phone over in his hand, over and over, putting it back on the stand when he saw Paul coming for him. He was smiling softly, two plates in his hand. He set them on the bed, taking the towel from around his neck and spreading it over the bed.

“We should invest in something to actually eat breakfast in bed. Those wooden table things,” Paul said, getting up close to Daryl.

“How long you’ve been up?” Daryl muttered, glancing down at his plate—there was pancakes, and eggs, bacon and potatoes.

Paul shrugged. “Long enough,” he grinned, popping a potato into his mouth. He glanced at Daryl. “Hey, you okay? You want some coffee or something?”

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head, biting off a piece of his bacon, balancing the fork in his hand. “Just…have a weird feelin’ about Rick.”

“Any particular reason?”

He shook his head and shrugged, feeling off, throwing a look to his phone. “Rick usually, I mean, he’s a sap you know?” He grinned, thinking of the ridiculous things that Rick and Daryl had done over the years for birthdays because Rick always wanted to make sure Daryl was being treated properly. “Don’t think that in all this time he’s just ever let a birthday go with just two words.”

Paul, who didn’t know Rick as well as Daryl answered, “Maybe he’s just busy,”

“Nah,” Daryl sighed, then looked over at Paul, swiftly to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s fine, I’ll give him a call later. Thanks for all this.” He looked down at his food.

“Yeah?” Paul’s eyes sparkled. “Tastes good?”

“Real good, but y’know, you didn’t have to do this,” Daryl told him, but regardless of that, he shoved three bits of potato and some egg in his mouth.

Paul grinned. “Yeah, you seem really sad that I took the morning to make breakfast.” He chuckled. “It’s my pleasure. You deserve it on your birthday. How old are you now like 87?”

“Funny,” Daryl snorted. “You ain’t that much younger than me pal.”

“Uh, five years is a lot younger. You’re a cougar.”

“Am _not_ a cougar,”

“Are too.”

“Hey,” Daryl took their plates away. Paul laughed and tried to move to get them, but Daryl wasn’t hungry, not for food. “Thanks,” he whispered, running his nose along Paul’s jaw, loving the scape, and the smell of him. “I love you.”

Paul’s eyes sparkled again. “I love you too. But I’m also hungry.”

“I wanna fuck you,”

Paul laughed loudly, shaking his head as Daryl put the plates on the nightstand. “You are a romantic, Dixon.”

“I try,” he leaned back in, and kissed his neck.

“Hey,” Paul pushed Daryl back. “It’s your birthday. Lay back. I’ll ride you.”

“Now _that’s_ romantic,”

But that’s what they did—Paul slid on top of Daryl and he got prepared and then slid down, and Daryl felt for the hundredth time that every time they came together it meant the world was okay, and that Daryl was coming together. It was slow and romantic, and they made out the entire time, their bodies flush together as Paul’s hips moved fluidly over his. They went and went, and when they came Daryl held him close—and the coming down was almost as good as the climax itself, because Daryl had his arms wrapped around Paul, with his ear pressed against Paul’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Paul began to giggle.

“What?” Daryl leaned back.

“I’m starving.”

Daryl laughed along, kissed his throat, got laid one more time, and then they finished their breakfast.

 

* * *

 

“I’m telling you, it was not a dream.”

“Was,”

“It wasn’t!”  Paul exclaimed, pointing at the end credits of _Inception._ “Didn’t you see the stupid rolling thing? It was about to fall! It means he made it out or whatever.”

“No, the whole point is that he was gonna be stuck,” Daryl lifted up his feet to put it on the table. “Which means he’s still stuck in the dreams.”

“No, the thing was going to fall which means that he made it out. I can’t believe you’re arguing with me.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“I am not wrong, you just don’t know how to watch movies.”

Daryl looked over at him, putting his hand on Paul’s knee. “How do I not know how to watch a damn movie?”

“You talked through the entire thing.”

“Was fuckin’ confusin’ that’s why.”

“You know pal,” Paul staged whispered. “If you don’t talk through a movie, you get to hear what they’re saying, which ultimately answers the questions that you asked me for two hours.”

Daryl chuckled and pulled Paul closer to him, “Pal, huh?”

“Yes, you’ve been demoted.” Paul snuggled closer, kissing his jaw. “That’s what you get for not shutting up for two hours.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Daryl leaned forward and looked at the movies scattered on the table. “What’s next?” he asked. “Fight club?”

“Sh,” Paul said dramatically. “First rule of fight club is we don’t talk about fight club.”

Daryl, who felt like he was missing something important, asked, “Why?” he looked over his shoulder, and frowned when Paul started to laugh. “What?”

“God, you need to get up to date with your movies.” Paul slipped his arm around Daryl and put his head on Daryl’s shoulder. “Fight club sounds good. You’ll even start to understand my references soon.”

“We can only dream.”

“You’re getting better at the sarcasm I’ll give you that.” Paul chuckled, looking over his shoulder when there was a knock on the door. “Did you invite someone over?” he asked.

“Nah,” Daryl stood up, then kneeled on the couch, one hand on the back of it as he watched Paul go over to the apartment door.

The door opened and on the other side of it, was Rick Grimes.

At the same time, Paul and Daryl said: “Rick?”—and while Paul smiled, Daryl did not, because if Rick was here in person without telling anyone that meant something was wrong. This wasn’t a birthday a visit.

“What is it?” Daryl asked, standing up properly now. “What’s wrong?”

Rick smiled gently and patted Paul’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I just showed up like this. I just…I wanted to come and see you before you heard the news from well, the news. Or a third party source.” He closed the door behind him, and suddenly, because he could not help it, everything zeroed in on Rick. His presence and being.

“What happened?” Daryl asked. “Carl? Is he okay? Judith? Is Michonne—”

“They’re all fine,” Rick looked at Paul and motioned for him to come over. He sat Daryl down, and Paul took the spot next to him, and because everyone knew something was wrong, Daryl took Paul’s hand and held it tighter than he had ever held anything before. “Something has happened.”

Daryl nodded. “What?”

“I tried to put this off. It happened this morning, but they told me if I didn’t tell you that they would, and I just…I don’t want you to hear it somewhere else.”

“Hear what Rick?” Daryl snapped. “Just tell me.”

“Your dad,” Rick swallowed. “He’s dead Daryl.”

Daryl didn’t know if he was supposed to have an immediate reaction. Whether he was supposed to feel sad, or angry, or happy. Or if he was supposed to respond. Instead, he just felt completely apathetic. Like he hadn’t really heard Rick at all, or maybe Rick was joking. It wouldn’t have been a very good joke, but Rick and jokes were never two things that went together in the first place.

Daryl really thought he should feel something more. “How’d he die?”

Rick’s blue eyes pierced him, looking for all those emotions that Daryl wasn’t expressing. “Just something that happens sometimes. Jail fights. Someone says the wrong thing…” he trailed off.

Daryl looked back at him. “You’re lying.”

Rick sighed. “Word got out about the things he did, to you. He was raving about you know, that it’ll only be a couple of more years until he got out. Said he was going to come for you. And well, there’s a couple of guys in jail who are good guys who did some wrong things to keep their family safe. So a lot of fathers. They didn’t take too kindly to the things he was saying.”

Daryl nodded. “So they killed him.”

“It was a fight, I don’t think anyone intended—”

“Don’t matter what was intended. S’what happened.” He chuckled, running both of his hands through his hair. “So now people are in jail for longer because they killed someone for me. And my dad is dead because he was talkin’ about me.”

“Daryl,” Paul whispered. “This isn’t—”

“Don’t,” Daryl shook his head. He trained his eyes on Rick.

Rick shook his head. “Your dad started the fight. We’re handling it. Don’t worry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I would have waited but I couldn’t…”

“S’fine Rick,” Daryl shrugged. “S’not your fault.” He sighed. “So, my brother is in jail, and my dad just joined my ma in the fuckin’ afterlife. Happy fuckin’ birthday right?” No one spoke after that, which Daryl preferred because he wasn’t sad or angry or happy, but he was suddenly, very, very tired.

 

* * *

 

Daryl was feeling really good. It bothered him that Rick and Paul didn’t look like they were having as much fun as him, but he was having enough fun for everyone. “Member this one time,” Daryl chuckled, on the floor by this point—his legs stretched out in front of him, his hand on his thigh, and his whatever-numbered beer in his free hand. He couldn’t keep count. “Rick, Rick, you’ll remember this. Remember when my dad saw us kiss? Remember what he did?”

“Daryl,” Rick sighed, moving closer to him. “Come on buddy, let’s get you to bed.”

“Punched me in the face,” Daryl told him. “Member Rick?”

“Yeah I remember,” he said, taking Daryl’s arm and putting it around his neck. “Let’s go. Paul is making back the bed.”

“Paul,” Daryl cooed. “Where’d he go? Haven’t seen him in forever.”

“He’s preparing the bedroom.”

Daryl shook his head. “Can’t stay for that Rick. Ain’t yours anymore.”

Rick sighed. “Wasn’t planning on trying to take you away pal.”

“Did once,” Daryl murmured tiredly.

“To keep you safe.” Rick reminded him.

“Am I safe now?” he asked.

“Course you are.” He said, and suddenly Daryl felt himself being lowered onto a bed, and Paul was back in his view, and he looked upset, or sad, he couldn’t tell which. And that, seeing both of them with those expressions, was somehow worse than whatever it was Daryl was feeling. The drunken haze was more than welcome to whatever sadness or anger that Daryl would eventually feel, but what mattered more to him was them. He didn’t want to make them sad. It’s just after Rick had told him, drinking seemed like the only thing to do. He was afraid of feeling mad or sad. He wanted to ride the high of joy as long as he could.

“M’sorry,” Daryl grabbed hold of them, clutching Paul’s hand and his hand twisted up in Rick’s shirt. “Please, I didn’t…you know I ain’t…I’m just…”

“Sh angel,” Paul reached down and kissed his forehead. “It’s okay.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad, I just want you to get some sleep.”

“Hated him,” Daryl whispered, feeling Rick and Paul undress him and then dress him in something more comfortable. Moving him around to get him to the top of the bed, the pillows greeting him like old friends. “Hated him, and he hated me. So why…”

“You feel bad because you’re you,” Rick told him. “Because you’ve always taken the blame. But everything that has happened isn’t your fault, you got that?” he sighed, shaking his head. “I’m going to crash on the couch. Thank you.”

Paul shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” he patted Rick and then closed the bedroom door. Daryl was trying his best to pay attention, but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes, and sighed in joy when he felt the bed dip and Paul crawl in back of him, holding him close. “Angel,” he whispered.

Daryl shook his head. “M’sorry,”

“It’s okay.”

“I just want it to be over.”

“What angel?”

“All the stuff happenin’, I just wanna enjoy you. But I can’t because things keep happenin’,” he took Paul’s hand that was already around him and brought it up to his mouth and kissed Paul’s hand. “Dunno if I feel bad, or if I’m happy or both.”

“You’re allowed to feel both.” Paul kissed the spot between his shoulder blades. “Sleep angel,”

“You ain’t gonna leave when I wake up?”

“Never.” Paul whispered, and he ran his hands and lips over Daryl’s hair, and shoulders until he fell into a dreamless sleep, where his father could not hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys liked this chapter :) please keep commenting, i love reading it xx


	10. the end

When Daryl woke up, for the first time in what felt like a long time, he woke up without feeling like complete death. Up until that point, his dreams had been plagued with his father, with his brother, the blood and the violence. But he woke up now, feeling good, feeling set.

Three weeks had passed, three weeks since his father died, since he embarrassed himself in front of Rick and Paul who obviously accepted it with plenty of grace. Rick had stayed for two days, and when he had left he had to be forced out of the house. Paul was nice about it, offering his home to Rick for him to stay longer, but Daryl hated feeling like charity, and so he told Rick to leave after assuring him a million times over that he was okay, more than okay.

He looked at the clock, it was almost nine in the morning—it was rare that they got to sleep in, even on the weekend. Daryl stretched a little before he turned so he could look at Paul, moving closer to him. He pressed a kiss to Paul’s neck, smiling lightly when he saw Paul grin. He continued to kiss, Paul’s cheeks, his mouth, his forehead, his nose, all over. Paul ended up giggling, his eyes blinking multiple times before he looked at Daryl.

“Hiya,” he moved in quickly and kissed Daryl’s lips. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

“Ain’t got a thing to be sad about,” Daryl told him.

“Well, one thing,” Paul stretched himself out, turning over on his stomach and stretching out leisurely. He pressed his hands against the headboard and groaned, wincing when his back cracked. “We can’t actually stay in bed all day. It’s Tara’s birthday.”

“Fuck,” Daryl moaned. “Forgot.” He put his hand on Paul’s shoulder and ran it down his back, then rubbing his nose along Paul’s jaw—beard, and dipped his hand to the small of Paul’s back, pressing against it. Paul groaned again. “You in pain?”

“Think you worked me too hard last night,” Paul admitted. When he saw the look of concern on Daryl’s face, he quickly added, “I’m not in pain, not like that. I swear. Just a little sore. It’s been three weeks since you’ve been on top, it’s nothing.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say to that—it was strange, Daryl hadn’t been able to be on top since the death. He wanted to be taken care of, and though he knew that being taken care of could work both ways, because Paul loved him no matter what, when Paul was on top, Daryl felt surrounded. The heat of another body over him was very different for him, it made him react differently. He didn’t really understand it, and didn’t know if it was like this for everyone, but this was how he felt.

“You sure?” Daryl asked.

“Definitely.” Paul nodded. “It’ll be fun though, Tara’s thing. I promise. We won’t stay long.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Daryl wrapped an arm loosely over Paul, more like just having his arm over his back, his fingertips running in small circles to wherever they reached. “I like them.”

“They like you too.”

“They like you more I bet.”

“Well,” Paul winked. “I’m real likeable.”

“I’ll say.”

“So?” Paul asked seriously. “How are we today?”

“M’fine,” Daryl nodded, moving forward and kissing Paul’s nose, then staying close so their noses were touching. “I swear. Feel real good. Haven’t been myself lately, I still dunno what I was feelin’, but…y’know, you really made me feel better.”

“Well I didn’t do much, but I’m glad anyway.”

“You do a lot,” Daryl said quietly. “More than you know.” His hand moved along in bigger strokes now, addicted to the touch. He went up to Paul’s shoulder again, and then into his hair, pushing it away from him. “Dunno how I got so damn lucky.”

“I don’t know either,” Paul teased, grinning when Daryl rolled his eye. “I’m really much too good for you.”

“And God damn humble too.”

“Well you know, arrogance is not a pretty trait to have.”

“You’d know, I guess.” He sighed. “You wanna know somethin’?”

“Hit me,”

Daryl did, on his butt, and Paul let out a yelp and then laughed, moving forward and attacking Daryl, exclaiming, “That’s not what I meant asshole!” he straddled Daryl, pressing his lips, his teeth and his hands moving all over Daryl, tickling and biting and kissing and loving. Daryl laughed and laughed, and allowed himself to be happy—not an easy thing to do when you were Daryl Dixon.

“Alright, alright,” Daryl chuckled, stilling him. They readjusted themselves, Daryl moving back so his back was against the headboard, and Paul sitting on top of him, his knees locked against Daryl’s hips. His hands were loosely around Daryl’s neck, and Daryl’s hands were resting on Paul’s hips. Blue eyes staring into blue eyes, the sun streaming in through the window, Daryl feeling at home, peaceful. He never thought he would feel peace. “I just wanted to say somethin’ really important.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I love you.”

“Well pal, jokes on you, I already knew that.”

“Bein’ serious.”

“So am I.”

“One day,” Daryl said, almost solemnly, like he couldn’t believe he was saying the words—or more so, that he didn’t know if he was allowed to say the words. If someone like him was allowed to have it, to say them and mean it and make that walk towards happiness. “I’m gonna marry you.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “Are you—”

“I ain’t proposin’,” Daryl said immediately. “But one day, I think I’m gonna.”

“Daryl…” Paul moved forward, kissing him with as much as intensity as he possibly could. “That’s…you have no idea what that actually means to me. I mean, you know I never want to pressure you but—”

“You never pressure me,” Daryl told him. “Not once. Never. And I ain’t ready yet, I don’t think to y’know…stand in front of people and say a bunch of crap. But eventually. If you want.”

“I want.” Paul nodded.

“Well then good. M’glad,” Daryl said, kissing him tenderly. “Cause I love ya.”

“I love you too Daryl Dixon.”

Then they began to kiss, and like so many things with them, one thing led to another and they lost themselves to each other, kissing and touching and loving each other. Sometimes things like this made Daryl feel outside himself, because when had he ever been this person before? But it didn’t matter anymore—because people who threatened him and hurt him and wanted him out of the way were gone now. He had people he loved and people who loved him with an entire future setting out in front of him.

And maybe it was okay to act outside himself, act irrationally.

Because with Paul kissing his lips, it was hard to think of anything else he would rather be doing than spending the rest of his life with Paul “Jesus” Rovia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all enjoyed this fic i know it ended a little abruptly, but i wanted to end it happy, without dragging out the pain
> 
> thank you for all the love my friends xx


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